<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Don't Blink Yet by searchingforenadi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652814">Don't Blink Yet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingforenadi/pseuds/searchingforenadi'>searchingforenadi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Dying Will Flames (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Female Harry Potter, Harry Potter is crazy and looking for a good time, Harry has a great sense of fashion and i will not let anyone tell me otherwise, Immortal Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mistaken Identity, Original Character Bianca Pacino, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, but not graphic, dimension hopping, possible ships in the future, scenes of crime/mafia/kidnappings/assault</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:21:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingforenadi/pseuds/searchingforenadi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She had assumed it was her flamingo-printed shirt that was the problem. </p><p>She had assumed wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter &amp; Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter &amp; Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Eldritch MOD Harry Potter, Gifts from Literature Deities, Rain Recs, There are no words for this beauty</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In her years of experience, Harry Potter had experienced Italy a countless number of times. </p><p>(Of course, it was difficult to say if they were all the <em> same </em>Italy… after the first dozen, it sort of became a blur). </p><p>But parallel universes aside, it was important to remember that Harry Potter held a lot of respect for each and every world’s cultural monuments. Hence, why she was here, standing in the crush of hundreds of people, observing the Pantheon for what was perhaps the thirty-second time. </p><p>Her fingers cradled a cheap film camera - the item served more as a prop than anything else, but after that one world where the locals nearly stabbed her for wearing foreign clothes, it never hurt to blend in. </p><p>(Then again, was it possible that her eye-watering flamingo print shirt pushed the idea of “tourist” a bit too far? It was hard to tell. </p><p>Still, perhaps it was a <em> tad </em>too offensive), </p><p>She leaned forward, making appropriate noises at the massive temple. A few clicks, standing right in the middle of the crowd, being a nuisance to those around her - and she was all set. It felt good to be an upstanding member of society. </p><p>Her eyes trailed the columns in front of her, their towering heights inspiring a sense of nostalgia. Inevitably, at one point or another, their ancient history would become mere specks of dust between her fingers. And when that time came, well. Perhaps Harry Potter would finally be laid down to rest. </p><p>But that would be eons from now, and with a growing appetite, she took one last photo and turned, intent on finding the nearest bakery. </p><p>It was at that moment that a hand reached out to grab her.</p><p>She blinked as time slowed to an agonizing halt, the gloved hand wrapping around her eyes as another hand came towards her mouth.</p><p><em> Oh, </em> she thought curiously, watching as the hands gradually moved to close in. <em> Is this a kidnapping?  </em></p><p>And then another thought: <em> was it the shirt? Was it too offensive?  </em></p><p>Reasons aside, Harry had all the time in the world to decide her next course of action. She was, of course, ravenously hungry and that put a damper on all sorts of exciting things. </p><p>But! When would her next kidnapping be? It could be another few decades, just like last time, and then where would the fun in that be?</p><p><em> Kidnapping it is, </em> she decided, because it wasn’t like starvation could kill her anyways. <em> Then a couple of drinks later on tonight.  </em></p><p>Drinks and bread - what a fantastic combination. Immensely satisfied with her plan, the world resumed its course, and the hands finally wrapped around her face.</p><p>“Ahh!” she said in a hopefully fearful manner, the sound horribly muffled against the cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her eyes travelled to the hordes of people around her, and she marvelled at how easy it was to kidnap a young woman right in front of the Pantheon. </p><p><em> If I had known it was gonna be this easy, </em> she thought as several men dragged her to a more hidden area, <em> I would’ve started my own ring of kidnappings. Forced anyone with hideous outfits to change into something nicer. It could have been an empire, a benevolent dictatorship! </em></p><p>Ignoring the hypocrisy of her own thoughts, Harry allowed the men to bash her head against the brick wall at a nearby alleway. The pain was negligible, near non-existent in fact, but she eagerly gave a rather convincing cry of pain before letting her body slump over.</p><p>“<em>Well that was fucking easy,</em>” one of the men commented as another hauled her over his shoulder. “<em>Don’t they usually fight a little harder than that?</em>”</p><p>“<em>American tourists are stupid like that</em>,” a man far to her left snorted, muttering a few more obscene words in their spoken language. “<em>Just bring her in so we can report to the old man.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice,</em>” the first man laughed, and soon after a hard smack was placed on Harry’s behind. “<em>Maybe the boss will let me have a go at her after he’s done.</em>”</p><p>And as she was none-too-gently thrown into a dark, tinted van, Harry briefly considered leaving and grabbing that bread after all.</p><p>The thought passed by quickly, however, because she was all for the “next, great adventure,” and the mafia was a fantastic place to start. </p><p><em> So, not the shirt, </em> she thought, wiggling around her tightly bound ropes to find a more comfortable position. <em> That’s good to hear - wouldn’t want seem culturally offensive.  </em></p><p>Minutes later, she let herself drift away, humming an off-key tune that was oddly reminiscent of a melody she had once known long ago. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p><hr/><p>They kept her blindfolded during the entire journey. Once they confirmed her conscious state, they moved her to a place that smelled awfully of rat dung and damp mold.</p><p>Placed on her feet once more, the blindfold was roughly removed and Harry blinked several times to adjust to the dim lighting. The cloth in her mouth was taken out next, though her bindings remained, and she turned her head to take in the terrible decor around her.</p><p>“Hm,” she hummed, glancing at the door in front of her, encased in metal locks and rusted chains. There were rows of barely burning candles along the hallway behind her, forming eerie shadows that illuminated the dusty corridor. Her feet tapped on the earth below and the sound seemed remarkably hollow. </p><p>“Welcome, <em> signorina,</em>” a slightly accented voice entered from the several men standing resolutely next to her. They were all dressed impeccably well, wearing ironed suits with tightly clasped, gloved hands. Moments later, they moved in tandem, creating two lines that revealed a short, stocky man in an even more luxurious suit. The man chuckled as he dropped a recently lit cigar. “I’m sorry if my men startled you.”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Harry answered, surveying the man’s rather tacky shoes. “They were perfect gentlemen. Couldn’t have asked for better service.”</p><p>There was a silent pause before the man dug his heel into the cigar. With ill-concealed delight, he noted, “You’re English! My men told me you were American. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”</p><p>“Quite alright,” Harry said with a shrug. “Happens to the best of us.”</p><p>“Well, of course,” the man agreed before waving his hand. Immediately, two men grabbed Harry on either side and another two worked to open the rusted door. “I’m very familiar with, what they like to call, the <em> very best </em> . And you, <em> signorina, </em>are a perfect addition to my best.”</p><p>“I’m flattered,” Harry responded as gloved hands dragged her through the open door. The leader of the group walked sedately next to her, commenting further as the door shut with a resounding slam.</p><p>The entryway led to another lengthy hall. There were piercing noises that grew increasingly louder and, when they turned another corner, Harry realized the sounds were actually screams.</p><p>“Oh,” she said blandly, as she was shoved forward, past the barred rooms surrounding her on each side. Each dismally small room held several woman, either barely clothed or not clothed at all. Shrieks of pain and terror cascaded across the entire corridor, with some women desperately pulling at the bars and others sitting silently on the floor. </p><p>“You see? This is my collection,” the leader said to her proudly, as they led her through the hall. The smell of urine and rotting produce overwhelmed the air, and Harry turned her head around, making note of every single prisoner within each room. “Impressive isn’t it? I only retrieve the <em> best </em>.”</p><p>“I see,” Harry said. And as they reached another door, leading to a single bedroom, she asked, “So are all these women for you? Just you?”</p><p>“Some are,” the leader answered after a beat of silence.</p><p>“Okay then,” she said, as the men moved to remove her clothes. “So, what, you sell the other girls? The girls themselves, or - ah, the zipper is actually on the side, I know, it’s weird, sorry - or their services only?”</p><p>Even longer silence. The men focusing on her clothes turned to look at their leader hesitantly.</p><p>Belatedly, Harry realized that perhaps this entire display was meant to serve as a power move, to intimidate and strike fear into victims before they could even think of fighting back. </p><p><em> Oh no, </em> she then thought, <em> I ruined his favorite part.  </em></p><p>“Their services,” the man said slowly. Then, rapidly to his men in Italian, he hissed, “<em>Who the fuck is this girl? Where did you pick her up?</em>”</p><p>“<em>I</em><em> have no idea, boss, </em> ” one of the two muttered as the other successfully tore off her shirt. Briefly, she mourned for the loss. “<em>She was taking pictures at the Pantheon - you know how clueless the people there are.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Well this one isn't acting like any normal tourist,</em>” the boss spat, motioning for the men to hurry up. Swiftly, Harry’s cargo pants were pushed down as well.</p><p>In English, the man continued with a sneer, “You're not a regular tourist, are you? Who sent you, you little bitch?”</p><p>Harry blinked, bewildered. </p><p>“Sent me?” she asked as they tossed her onto the dusty mattress inside the bedroom and shut the door. “Uh…”</p><p>Well, what was she supposed to say? Her mother, who birthed her? Or, the real perpetrator of all her shenanigans for nearly half a millenia, the all-powerful, eternal, unchanging Death?</p><p>“No matter,” the man interrupted with an uncaring wave of his hand. “I'll get the answer out of you after I fuck you till you're half-dead.”</p><p>“Now that just sounds like bad business,” Harry noted as she laid uncomfortably on the thin bed. “Do you do that to all your girls? Because that's poor service to your customers.”</p><p>The two grunts looked at each other even as the boss tore off his expensive suit, leaving on only a collared shirt and pair of briefs. Without another word, he sent a sudden hard slap across her face.</p><p>“I think you should also rethink your sanitation procedures,” Harry added, barely registering the pain. Her eyes narrowed as she waited patiently for the right moment. “Selling girls in the catacombs? That's a surefire way to get diseases.”</p><p>“Talk all you want,” the boss sneered, hands <em> finally </em>reaching for his skin tight briefs. Harry wiggled her fingers around the bound ropes in anticipation. “I'll make sure to send your broken body to MI6 by the end of the week.”</p><p><em> Wait, </em> she blinked. <em> MI6? MI6 as in the UK’s Secret Intelligence Service? </em></p><p>Before she could ponder on that interesting revelation any further, the sound of gunshots rang through the air. </p><p>Immediately, muffled shouts and curses could be heard from the other side of the door, while the screams of the prisoners rose to another decibel of fear and terror.</p><p>“<em>What's going on?</em>” the mafia boss roared as his men immediately pulled out their respective guns. Meanwhile, Harry wrinkled her nose at the sight of the naked man, his undergarments hanging loosely at his ankles.</p><p>And as quickly as it had started, there was a sudden silence. Carefully approaching the closed door, the two grunts raised their weapons, fingers wrapped around the trigger - </p><p>From one breath to the next, the door slammed open, twin golden shots bursting through the opening and piercing through each man's forehead. </p><p>The grunts fell with a crumpled thud, guns hanging loosely in their lifeless hands. </p><p>“<em>Stop! Don't move!</em>” the boss raised his own weapon with unsteady knees. </p><p>Already tired of this entire fiasco, Harry loosened the ropes around her body and sat up, stretching the sores in her neck. </p><p>“<em>Chaos, Don Gospella,</em>” a man stepped into view, shadows surrounding his face, dressed in his own well-fitted suit. “<em>You’ve been a tricky man to find.</em>”</p><p>“<em>You, you,</em>” Gospella wheezed, stumbling backwards. He tripped over his undergarments and collapsed onto the floor. “<em>How did you - </em> “</p><p>The man whipped his head to Harry, who, after standing up and giving a long stretch, was staring at a tacky glass painting in consideration. </p><p><em> “You,</em>” he then snarled, pointing his gun at her. She, meanwhile, lifted the framed portrait and removed it from the wall. “<em>You brought him here didn’t you, bitch? Stooping so low to work with the people you chase - I’ll kill you!</em>”</p><p>Not heeding any of the words thrown at her, Harry slammed the painting against the wall. The sound of shattering glass was near inaudible to the cracks of twin gunshots that followed after.  </p><p>Harry looked up from her bent position on the floor, hand curled around the broken frame, one bullet hole in the wall behind her, and another in Gospella’s right hand.</p><p>“<em>Where I come from, women are treated with respect,</em>” the veiled man said lightly, one hand in his pocket, his gun emitting the faintest whips of smoke. He continued, over Gospella’s screams of agony, “<em>But I guess you wouldn’t know the meaning of that.</em>”</p><p>“<em>I’ll kill you! I’ll kill the both of you!</em>” the mafia boss howled, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. </p><p>Stepping over the painting, Harry approached the two men, standing right in front of the boss. She lowered herself to meet Gospella at eye-length, the largest piece of broken glass in hand and a pleasant smile along her lips. </p><p>“I think he’ll enjoy meeting you,” she told the man thoughtfully, remembering the entity that began it all. </p><p>She smiled as his eyes lost their initial fear, travelling deliriously, hungrily, from her legs, to her breasts. </p><p>Abruptly, Harry kicked Gospella’s legs open and, in one swift movement, viciously slashed through his most beloved member.</p><p>She released the bloodied piece of glass soon after, unmoved by the man’s renewed shrieks of overwhelming pain.</p><p>Satisfied with the completion of her plan, she turned, walking past the other man, an unreadable expression on his face. </p><p>They moved in tandem; him, moving forward after a pause, to take care of Gospella’s headache-inducing screams and her, stripping one dead grunt’s suit clean to clothe herself. </p><p>Her magic moved to resize the outfit, the cheap fabric clinging nicely on her shoulders. Tugging her unruly hair back into a low ponytail, Harry faced the man again just as he turned, long slim fingers tight around Gospella’s collar. </p><p>“I suppose you want him as well,” the hitman said resignedly, his English smooth and slightly accented. He gestured to the unconscious man with a casual kick. </p><p>“No?” she said, but it came out more as a question. Her eyebrows rose as they both exited the moldy bedroom. The hallway was eerily quiet, only accompanied by the quiet sobs of several women.</p><p>Turning to the man, she added, “You may have interrupted me, but that’s not a bad thing.”</p><p>The hitman glanced down at her with narrowed eyes. </p><p>“Your people don’t need to see the body?” he asked her as she sent a thrum of magic through the heavy padlock of the first prison cell. </p><p><em> My people? </em>She mouthed in confusion, her back to him while she pulled harshly against the outdated lock. It sprung open with a grating screech and she tossed it to the ground, ignoring the following brutal thud. </p><p>“I came here without any expectations,” Harry said blandly, skipping over the part where she had willing tagged along, eager for her next kidnapping. </p><p>Hand on the rusting door knob, she looked back at the hitman, his hat covering the upper half of his face. </p><p>“I’ve learned it’s best to leave it to your people,” she said slowly, having no clue what the fuck she was saying, but figuring it would be poetic to use the man’s words back at him. “Your world, your laws.”</p><p>Harry blinked in amazement at herself because <em> wow </em>, did that sound cool or what?</p><p>Shaking away her thoughts, she ignored the man’s relaxing posture and pulled the door open, gaining entrance to a tiny room with three young women.</p><p>One swiftly moved in front of the other two, her hallowed features failing to hide the fierceness in her eyes. </p><p>“<em>Peace</em>,” Harry raised her hands, switching easily to Italian and softening her voice. “<em>We’re not here to harm you.</em>”</p><p><em> At least, I’m not, </em>she then thought belatedly. It was difficult to say what exactly the mafia would do with these women now, but the man behind her certainly didn’t have any malicious intentions.</p><p>“<em>The men here have been taken care of,</em>” she gestured to the hitman behind her and, right on cue, he raised Gospella’s body into the air in demonstration. The woman at the front stared disbelievingly. </p><p>“<em>I’m going to unlock all of the prison cells,</em>” Harry continued, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. Looking straight into the woman’s startled, dim eyes, she ordered, “<em>And </em> you<em>, miss, will open them.</em>”</p><p>“<em>M-Me?</em>” the woman croaked out, licking her dry lips. “<em>But - </em>”</p><p>“<em>They’ll panic if we approach them, just like you had. I mean, look at us!</em>” Harry joked, though by ‘us’ she actually meant ‘him,’ because tall, dark and intimidating didn’t do much to soothe anybody’s fears. “<em>There’s not much time left before our ruckus attracts the wrong people, so I’d like to see you all free before then.</em>”</p><p>“<em>I - ” </em></p><p>And before the woman could say much else, Harry turned and exited the prison cell, quickly pulling on every padlock with a sharp tug. </p><p>The hitman followed her sedately, easily keeping up with her steps.</p><p>“I didn’t know you spoke Italian,” he commented casually, dragging Gospella’s body through the dirt floor. </p><p>Harry shrugged, reaching the end of the hallway in record of time. She watched patiently as the first woman slowly stepped out of her prison cell, hunched over and hesitance in her posture, wonder flooding her features at the dead men along the ground. </p><p>“You didn’t ask,” she pointed out, before a sudden idea crossed her mind. Crouching next to the nearest lifeless grunt, Harry rummaged around the corpse until her fingers reached a cold, metal object.</p><p>She returned to the hitman, the gun hidden away, as gradually, more and more women began to fill the hallway, huddling together under the directions of the first woman. </p><p>Said woman approached them minutes later, guarded in her movements. </p><p>“<em>Give yourselves ten minutes,</em>” Harry counted the number of women crowding the small space. “<em>Do any of them need immediate medical attention?</em>”</p><p>The woman startled, while the hitman next to her shifted minutely. </p><p>“<em>I - no, not anything that needs more than time to heal,</em>” the woman answered. “<em>How - </em> “</p><p>“<em>Good,</em>” Harry interrupted, a touch apologetic. The longer she stayed, the worse it would be for both her and her new acquaintance. </p><p>(Though why he still remained, the reasons were a mystery to her).</p><p>“<em>You have less than ten minutes to decide</em>,” she continued, already opening the door behind her to reveal the dark, musty halls of the catacombs. “<em>In that time, the police will arrive. If you don’t want their attention, leave.</em>”</p><p>“<em> But - ” </em></p><p>It was too late, unfortunately. Harry, sick and tired of this fiasco, had already left, briskly walking to the stairs at the end of the hall.</p><p>“I thought you’d leave it to my people?” the hitman asked nonchalantly, <em> still </em>here for some odd reason. </p><p>“Yes, and you have him in your hands,” Harry answered, barely able to stop her eyes from rolling. They walked up the dusty, crumbling stone stairs in tandem. “Don’t tell me you need those women?”</p><p>There was a slight pause. </p><p>“No, you are correct about that,” the man admitted. They exited through what seemed like cellar doors, arriving right below a charming, ancient bell tower. </p><p>“Great!” Harry said, a bit too cheerfully, which was probably due to her very severe need to eat bread <em> soon</em>. Her eyes travelled up the tower, taking in the tourists chattering around her, to the top.</p><p>The bell was missing. The bell of a bell tower was missing, but no matter, because above the place where the bell should have been, was a ceiling full of beautiful, glass-stained paintings. </p><p>“Are you planning on contacting your people then?” it was clear, at this point, that the Hitman-Who-Would-Not-Leave was fishing for something that probably wasn’t even there. “I am assuming that would be the fastest way to contact the local police.”</p><p>Harry looked at the man, who was somehow not attracting any sort of attention, despite the half-dead mafia boss in his hands. </p><p><em>There’s been some sort of miscommunication here, </em> she thought, <em> but I’m too hungry to try and figure it out. </em></p><p>So, instead of clearing out any misunderstandings like a mature adult, Harry decided it was high time to get the hell out of there.</p><p>In a single motion, a tad too quickly for the hitman to follow, she pulled out her borrowed gun (miraculously, still loaded with bullets and safety trigger turned off), and shot blindly above her. </p><p>The glass ceiling shattered into millions of pieces.</p><p>(It was important to note that Harry, in her centuries of living, had only held a gun three times in her life and twice, they had been made of plastic.</p><p>She had actually been aiming for the fire alarm that rested at a slightly lower level, but in this situation, she supposed glass could work too). </p><p>“<em>Are you crazy?</em>” the hitman hissed, slipping back to Italian. All around them, tourists burst into a fervor of activity, screams filling the air. </p><p>Harry rolled her shoulders, vanishing the gun to another plane of existence.</p><p>“How far away is the closest police station in the back streets of tourist Rome?” she asked, already walking away from the bell tower. Her cheap, borrowed shoes crushed the specks of glass underneath. </p><p>“That’s right! A ten minute drive,” she said, answering her own question. Wiggling her fingers in farewell, Harry slipped into the crowd - with the sudden chaos, everyone was entirely focused on securing their own safety. </p><p>And when the hitman blinked, she was long gone, apparating to Venice in hopes that maybe this time, she would finally get her bread.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p><hr/><p>A few weeks later found her in a little cafe, hidden within the less populated streets of Athens. </p><p>“Ah, Greece,” Harry hummed, swallowing another bite of revani. The cake was incredibly light, with a slight citrus tang, and fantastically delicious. </p><p>She was the only one sitting at the veranda outside, the cafe’s elderly owner cheerfully sweeping the floors inside. </p><p>It was all terribly nice, Harry considered. So nice, in fact, that it was very likely she would cut her vacation short and move on to her next one. </p><p><em> Always looking for the next adventure, </em>she thought enthusiastically, though her former Headmaster probably didn’t mean it in that way. Still, it was exciting to imagine what world she would stumble upon next - perhaps an alien planet? Oh, it had been so long since she last landed on one -</p><p>In her next breath, a man suddenly appeared in the seat across from her. </p><p>“I must admit,” he began. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”</p><p>Harry took a long sip of her iced tea.</p><p>“And how exactly did you find me?” she frowned at the hitman (the same one from that terrible time in Rome, weeks ago), dressed impeccably as always, with a well-ironed suit and a clean, white button-up shirt. </p><p>The man cocked his head to the side, his ridiculous hat somehow still covering part of his face. </p><p>“A little bug told me,” he answered, tipping his fedora off to her. The action revealed a mess of dark hair, hidden once again, only leaving distinctive curls on the side.</p><p>Harry gave him a sympathetic glance. She knew all too well the troubles of unruly hair. </p><p>“Well, you’ve found me,” she waved her hands in congradulations. “How’s Gospella?”</p><p>“Dead,” the hitman said shortly. Harry smiled at that. She had known already, of course. Death had made sure to visit afterwards, to inform her of where exactly the dead man would be for the rest of eternity. </p><p>“That’s nice,” she said, finishing off her revani. </p><p>The man leaned back against the plastic chair. Hands laid casually in his pockets, he said, “Considering M16 has erased all records of you, I’m assuming you’re here for Moraitis?”</p><p>Harry blinked at the sheer number of oddities in that one sentence.</p><p>
  <em> M16? Erased records? As in, erased records that had previously existed?  </em>
</p><p><em> Clearly, several mistakes have been made here, </em>Harry thought. </p><p>“I’m not involved with M16,” she told him, conveying what probably should have been said weeks ago. </p><p>“Of course you aren’t,” the hitman said, as if he was simply humouring her. “But your disguise could use some work, if I must say.”</p><p>Harry laid an affronted hand on her searing yellow, pineapple print t-shirt. “Back off the attire, scrub. This is <em> vintage </em>.”</p><p>“And please,” she added, twirling a strand of her black hair. “You’re one to talk. Walking around the streets of Athens in a three-piece suit and an ugly tie. <em> That’s </em>what you would call a garish yellow.”</p><p>Almost unwittingly, the hitman raised a hand to his sickening tie. He caught himself just in time, however, and the briefest of scowls flashed by. </p><p>“Moving on, it would be for the best if you delayed your plans for another twelve hours,” he said, recovering admirably. “I have plans with Moraitis tonight.”</p><p>Was it a warning? Or a request? Either way, Harry really didn’t give a fuck. </p><p>“I have no plans tonight,” she said slowly, hopefully at rate that could be understood. It had been two centuries since she had tried organizing her daily life in a concrete manner. Today would not be a day for change. “In fact, it’s the exact opposite. I’m going to wander around the streets and maybe get piss-poor drunk.”</p><p>It was a joke, of course. Harry was as incapable of getting drunk as she was dying, so it was all moot point. </p><p>The hitman made a noise that sounded incredibly patronizing, and it was only her bemusement that prevented Harry from smiting him right then and there. </p><p>(Although it had been so long since her last smiting... perhaps five years? Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all - )</p><p>“Do try to wander carefully then,” the man said, and Harry was mildly impressed that someone who hadn’t even reached his thirties could sound so condescending. “I’d hate to see us on opposite sides tonight.”</p><p>He left with a dip of his hat, before slinking into the dark alleyways and disappearing completely from sight. </p><p>Harry stared into the distance, down the cobblestone roads and up to the darkening sky.</p><p>“Opposite sides, huh?” she drained the rest of her tea. With a satisfied sigh, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slapped an inordinate amount of cash onto the wooden table. </p><p>Shoving her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, Harry hopped back onto the main street, blending with the growing lights that filled the city. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Munching on koulouri, Harry traversed the brightly lit streets of downtown Athens. The toasted bread crunched nicely between her teeth, countless sesame seeds spilling onto the ground below. </p><p>The brick roads felt rough underneath her flats, a sea of tourists swarming around her, the lamp posts rusted and sturdy. </p><p><em> Indeed, it’s very nice, </em>Harry decided, her toes curling within her stockings. She had forgone her vintage outfit for a more casual dress, all for the sake of blending in. </p><p>She twirled once, startling the people around her, relishing the swish of fabric along her knees. </p><p><em> I’ll leave next week, </em>she concluded. This planet was a bit too calm for someone like her. </p><p>Humming to herself, she stepped forward again - only for a pair of bodies to block her way.</p><p>“<em>Good evening, miss</em>,” the man to the right said in Greek. “<em>I couldn’t help but notice you were by yourself here in Athens.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Well, you’re not wrong,</em>” Harry answered in turn, more amused than anything else. “<em>Can I help you gentlemen?</em>”</p><p>The man shared a look with his partner, their burly shoulders relaxing slightly. </p><p>“<em>We’re looking to promote our club, just around the corner,</em>” he said smoothly, gesturing to the intersection behind him. “<em>And well, when I saw a beautiful woman such as yourself, without a place for entertainment, I felt compelled.</em>”</p><p>“<em>A nightclub, huh?</em>” Logically speaking, Harry was a bit too old for those kinds of activities, but it never hurt to try and feel young again, right? </p><p>Skimming their minds more out of habit than caution, it became apparent that the advertised nightclub hosted activities that went beyond the expected.</p><p>“<em>Sure, why not?</em>” Harry said easily. There was hardly a club these days that didn’t dabble on the opposite side of legality.</p><p>The man beamed, his features transforming to something slightly more sinister. </p><p>“<em>Wonderful!</em>” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Harry looked at the limb and briefly considered cutting it off, before ultimately deciding against it. </p><p>Both he and his partner guided her down the streets, their stained suits causing the locals to give them a wide berth. </p><p>They turned swiftly left, turning a corner and into an alley with stuttering lights. Neon signs bombarded her eyes, with figures standing in front of different doors, burnt cigars between their fingers. </p><p>“<em>It may seem a bit dangerous, but there’s nothing to fear here,</em>” the man commented, nearly dragging her forward at this point. Briefly, Harry wondered if this sort of tactic usually worked for him - he was a terrible actor. </p><p>“<em>Annnnd here we are! </em> he announced, gesturing to metal door squeezed between two larger buildings. </p><p><em> Athena’s Wine Goblets </em>- was written in fading black ink along the tinted windows. It was an unimaginative name. </p><p>“<em>Come along, miss,</em>” the man pulled at her, as his partner opened the door with a creak. The muffled sounds of an electric bass rose to a deafening height.</p><p>She was led down carpeted stairs, to a basement full of young adults, dancing erratically to mind-numbing music. </p><p>It was a little tacky, but the drinks at the bar looked promising, so Harry gave herself a pat on the back for following directions -</p><p>She was hauled past the crowd and pushed down another set of stairs. </p><p>“<em>Wasn’t that the nightclub right there?</em>” Harry glanced behind her, to the fading music and flashing lights. </p><p>“<em>Oh, but you need to meet our boss first, miss,</em>” the man said slyly, and Harry wondered who exactly he was trying to fool. “<em>After all, we’re giving you V.I.P. access.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Wow, I’m flattered,</em>” Harry said, as her wrists were none too gently squeezed. The whole thing no longer seemed worth the effort, and just as she contemplated leaving, the doors to her left slid open. </p><p>Inside revealed a slim, lanky man with an impressive mustache, a set of bodyguards standing resolutely at every corner of the room. The walls were painted an opulent gold and the ceiling towered high, full of mirrors. </p><p>The man - who was clearly the boss - crossed his legs, sitting on a lavishly adorned velvet couch, and across from him, past the glass table, sat - </p><p>“Ah,” Harry said, staring into the dark eyes of her favorite hitman who, at the moment, looked ready to commit murder. </p><p>And as she was shoved into the room, the doors closing shut behind her, Harry decided firmly she would leave this world tonight. Clearly, fate was working against her here, which meant she had to get out quick and <em> fast </em>. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p><hr/><p>“<em>Ah, you must be my partner for tonight,</em>” the boss greeted, grabbing a hold of her arm and bringing her onto his lap. Harry, still disappointed at the threads of destiny, let him. </p><p>“<em>A little dull, it seems, but oh! </em> course fingers roughly brought her face to a greedy, dark smile. “<em>Would you look at those eyes! Those fools did something right for once.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Oh no,</em>” Harry said. This wasn’t what she imagined her night to go, but, well. She widened her eyes for effect. “<em>I thought I was here for the nightclub?"</em></p><p>The boss let out a bark of laughter. “<em>Is that what those idiots told you? Well, little miss, that dingy place can’t serve you as well as I can.</em>”</p><p>He trailed a finger along the side of her thigh, humming in approval at her thin stockings.</p><p>“<em>I always did love women with class</em>,” the boss murmured into her riot of dark hair. He smelled of ash and cheap cologne - Harry wrinkled her nose and tried her best not to cough. </p><p>“<em>If that’s all well and done, Moraitis,</em>” the hitman on the other side of the room interrupted. His eyes bored accusingly at her. </p><p><em> Well, what can you do, </em> Harry shrugged slightly. She hadn’t walked around <em> looking </em>for this place.</p><p>“<em>Patience, patience, my good man,</em>” Moraitis chuckled. He rested a hand along Harry’s hip and turned to her. “<em>You must forgive Reborn - he can be awfully restless at times.</em>”</p><p>The now named hitman, Reborn, leaned on his upraised fist, against the couch’s armrest, the sleeves of his suit rolled up to the elbows. </p><p>“<em>It wouldn’t do to leave Timoteo waiting,</em>” Reborn answered, his entire posture relaxed. “<em>You know how he can be.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Ah, yes,</em>” Moraitis agreed. “<em>I’d hate to anger the infamous Vongola.</em>”</p><p>Nearly asleep at this point, Harry stared down at the hand travelling up to her chest. </p><p><em>Come any closer, and I’ll burn it off, </em>she thought lazily, fingers already twitching in preparation. </p><p>Luckily for Moraitis, fate had other plans. </p><p>“<em>Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline the request,</em>” the boss waved a hand and every single man in the room raised a gun towards the center. “<em>You know how it is, Reborn. It’s just business.</em>”</p><p>Reborn sighed, cheek still resting on the knuckles of his hand.</p><p>“<em>I hate returning empty-handed,</em>” he muttered, as Moraitis pulled out a gun of his own. Without another word, Moraitis fired directly at Reborn, only for the shot to ricochet into the ceiling above. </p><p>Eyes turned back to Moraitis, the man’s arm raised unnaturally high, a pale hand resting under his elbow. </p><p>“<em>What - ” </em> Moraitis hissed, spitting out that single word before Harry slammed a knee right into his face. </p><p>Catching the gun that slipped from Moraitis’ fingers, Harry ducked under the set of arms hurled at her, and swung a foot in an arch. One bodyguard’s face snapped to the side, and jumping over another guard’s shoulders, Harry sent a surge of magic through the locked doors with a single touch.</p><p>The metal doors crumpled in an instant. Not one to waste a single moment of opportunity, Reborn had long since pulled out his own gun, sending every single member in the room down with startling efficiency. </p><p>Harry stepped out into the hallway, a cascade of shouts rumbling through the walls. Dusting imaginary lint off his tailored coat, Reborn joined her not long after, pointing his gun right at her and firing off. </p><p>The bullet missed by a mere centimeter. She turned, the bodyguard behind her falling to the ground not soon after. </p><p>Harry smiled. The night finally seemed to turn for the better. </p><p>“So, what’s your deal?” she asked, even as she and Reborn switched places, his gun shooting at the men rushing down the stairs. She, in the meantime, slid under another guard’s legs before leaping up and snapping his neck in half. </p><p>Reborn shrugged. “He was encroaching on territory that wasn’t his. I was sent to ask him to back off.”</p><p>“Oh!” Harry downed several more men, humming a familiar melody. “I didn’t know you had an employer.”</p><p>Somehow, she ended up right behind Reborn, their backs to each other. He glanced back at her, narrowed eyes and all, still firing off bullets with unnerving accuracy. </p><p>“I wouldn’t call this a job,” Reborn said. Back in the room next to them, Moraitis stirred, one hand to his bloodied face. “This is more like a favor for an old friend.”</p><p>“Some favor,” Harry noted, relaxing slightly when there was a lull in activity. “His taste in women is questionable, though.”</p><p>Reborn sent her a look while reloading his gun. “It’s certainly better than his taste in children.”</p><p>Harry tilted her head to the side. </p><p>“Children, huh?” she tapped a finger on her chin, watching as Moraitis slowly rose with a groan. Hand grasping cold metal, Harry fired a shot at the man without another thought.</p><p>Moraitis went down immediately, blood gurgling in his lungs, a bullet in his heart. </p><p>“Not bad,” Reborn commented.</p><p>Harry stared back down at her gun in disappointment. She had been aiming for his dirty, searching hands. </p><p>Still, it felt like a productive night. A nice way to end the day, and consequently, her last time here in this world. </p><p>That was the last thing she thought, before a barrage of bullets came her way.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p><hr/><p>“Well,” Harry said cheerfully. “That could have gone worse, right?”</p><p>Half-conscious and only held upright through Harry’s arms, Reborn groaned.</p><p>She carried him back to her hotel room (apparating might leave messy results), practically dragging him across the floor, careful not to get his blood on her clothes. </p><p>“How,” Reborn gritted out, his breath escaping in short, heavy puffs. She tossed him a pair of heavy duty tweezers, and he caught them quite easily - impressive for someone riddled with bullets. </p><p>Harry hummed, pretending to rummage through the cabinet in her bathroom when in reality, she was just conjuring medical supplies. </p><p>By the time she had returned, Reborn was pulling out the last bullet from his body, the tiny metal capsules resting on the dresser next to her bed.</p><p>He sat a little more upright, bleeding all over her blankets and pillows, and barely able to stop her nose from wrinkling, Harry handed over the rest of her equipment.</p><p>“I don’t need these,” Reborn said, but accepted the supplies nevertheless. His stitching technique was methodical and swift, leaving Harry to dump his torn outer coat in the trash. </p><p>There was a flash of <em> something,</em> bright and warm. It grabbed her attention, near magnetically, and when she faced Reborn again, there was a tiny spark of fire dancing along his fingers. </p><p><em> Now </em> this, <em> is what we call interesting, </em> Harry felt her lips pull into a smile. It couldn’t be called magic, no. Magic didn’t exist in this world - she had checked. She always did. </p><p>The fire reached towards Reborn’s wounds, his skin stretching and <em> healing, </em> and when her gaze finally travelled up to his eyes, they were still as sharp as ever.</p><p>“What, did they not cover Flames in your training?” he rasped out, the fire finally dying after another moment. </p><p>“No, I don’t think they did,” Harry said, finding it completely hopeless to try and convince Reborn otherwise. </p><p>Reborn laughed, the sound cut short, as he carefully wrapped a roll of bandages around his less severe wounds. </p><p>“I guess they were too busy with everything else,” his eyes trailed over her undamaged form. Cutting off the last of his bandages, he gingerly rose to a stand, putting back on his not-so-white button up shirt. </p><p>He walked back to her, meeting her in front of the doors to her room’s balcony, hanging on the twentieth floor. The clear windows let in the moon’s eerie light, illuminating half of their faces, covering the rest in shadows. </p><p>“I suppose some gratitude is in order,” Reborn finally said, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. </p><p>Mind still considering that strange fire, Harry smiled. “A thank you would work.”</p><p>Reborn’s eyes narrowed. Taking a step forward, he leaned in, the fabric of his cotton shirt shifting to reveal the bandaged skin underneath. </p><p>“I can think of other ways besides simple words,” he said lowly, lips tugging to one side, close enough that the warmth of his skin was blatantly apparent. </p><p>A hand reached out to wrap around her waist, to pull her in, long, pale fingers toying with the ends of her dress - </p><p>Warm, chapped lips pressed against her throat, the fingers climbing higher and higher - </p><p>And Harry, with long suffering patience, stared flatly up at the ceiling. </p><p>She dragged a hand along the waistline of Reborn’s pants, trailing across skin until she found one area where a bullet had been, and <em> pinched.  </em></p><p>Reborn hissed, doubling over in pain. Pushing him to side, Harry exited the room and into the balcony.</p><p>“Honestly,” she called out to Reborn, who was struggling to rise back to a stand. “I think I’d rather have that thank you instead.”</p><p>Because it seemed Reborn would only continue to remain insufferable, Harry climbed onto the railing. The city below was glowing, with brilliant lights, moving out to the sea ahead, the water reflecting the stars above. </p><p>“Wait - ” Reborn said, stumbling forward.</p><p>But no, Harry would not wait. As much as she wanted to move on to the next world, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and figure out the mysterious flames here. </p><p>So Harry jumped. The wind rushing past her, falling down faster and faster, the feeling near exhilarating, and Harry laughed, without reserve and freely, before disappearing into thin air. </p><p>Leaving Reborn, alone in a single hotel room, to the scent of drying blood and the sound of wind running against the waves.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the first of my fics from ffnet to be transferred over here! :D</p><p>for those of you who are new, this was originally intended to be a romance one-shot and then it turned into something else - so now i'm not too sure what to call this fic anymore o.o</p><p>either way, the second chapter will be posted (as it was already on ffnet) sometime very soon. i hope it's a fun read for anyone who comes by!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you to drippingmoonwax for being a great beta :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t the best place to start off her search, but in terms of familiarity, nothing really beat England in her books.</p>
<p>“More tea, miss?” a young waitress asked, raising a pot in her hands. </p>
<p>“Yes, please, that would be wonderful,” Harry beamed, waiting until her cup was completely filled before she dumped a pile of sugar cubes in as well.</p>
<p>She settled into her padded seat, toying with a fork between her fingers. There was a soft patter of rain against the windows next to her, spilling from the dark clouds above.</p>
<p>“Ah, London,” Harry took a bite of treacle tart, before sighing deeply into her hand. “Dreary as always.”</p>
<p>It was an oddly tranquil moment. The muddled chatter within the cafe faded into the background and tiny streams of water trickled down the cobblestone streets outside. </p>
<p><em> Yes, there’s no place like home, </em>Harry thought generously, quietly sipping her tea. </p>
<p>Now, where to next? The idea of <em> something </em>supernatural existing in this world was too tantalizing to ignore. </p>
<p>Italy, perhaps? It was a terrible idea, considering how it seemed the center of all things horrid, but Harry didn’t have many options in the first place.</p>
<p>Before the subject could be examined further, she was interrupted by a figure that stomped to her table. </p>
<p>“<em>You,</em>” the figure, now identified as perhaps a woman, said accusingly in Italian. Bright red eyes flashed manically - it was a strangely familiar sight. “<em>Are you </em> trying <em> to make things difficult for me?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry blinked slowly.</p>
<p>“Oh no,” she then said, in English. Silently, she wondered how even away from the country, Italy had a way of worming into her life. “So sorry. I don't speak that language.”</p>
<p>The woman reared her head back and slammed a hand onto the table with a dull smack. Several eyes turned their way.</p>
<p>“You are a terrible liar,” she declared stoutly, glancing around her before grudgingly taking the seat across from Harry. Her accent was rather thick, jumping over every vowel. “Your country may try to protect you, but I can find anything.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked again.</p>
<p>“My country,” she repeated slowly. “Protecting <em> me? </em>”</p>
<p>That, Harry decidedly thought, wasn’t quite right<em> . </em> After all, Harry had only lived on this planet for a total of six weeks - definitely not enough time to get a visa, let alone a citizenship. </p>
<p>The woman hissed something inaudible that sounded impressively derogatory. </p>
<p>“Look, you, you <em> airheaded bimbo,</em>” the woman finally said, giving up on English to return to her Italian roots. “<em>I searched nearly all of Europe searching for you, just to say thank you - and now we’re going to pretend like nothing happened?</em>”</p>
<p>“Thank me,” Harry repeated again, dumbly, giving a poor impression of a simple, English-speaking citizen. </p>
<p>A moment later, like tiny locks clicking in place, a single memory wormed its way into her mind.</p>
<p>“Oh!” she said, smiling. “I remember now. We met in that prison.”</p>
<p>The one prison with the lackluster sanitary codes and that terrible, terrible hitman. No wonder those eyes had seemed so familiar - they had a sort of fierceness that was difficult to misplace. </p>
<p>“<em>I didn't recognize you there,</em>” Harry said, switching easily to Italian. “<em>You got a haircut, didn't you?</em> <em>It looks good.</em>”</p>
<p>Perhaps it was the sudden change in language, or Harry's own terrible skill at staying on task, but the woman (from that awful time in Rome) raised a hand to her silvery white hair. </p>
<p>As if realizing what she had just done, the woman scowled, her gaunt features pulling together to appear even sharper.</p>
<p>“<em>Don't try to change the subject,</em>” she seethed, the strands of her hair brushing along her jawline. “<em>I knew you were pretending - you’re awful at it.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry gave an unhelpful smile. “<em>Why, I’m not too sure what you mean.</em>”</p>
<p>And then, with an equally unhelpful nod, she stood, placing a thick wad of cash to pay for the bill before walking away.</p>
<p>"<em>Wait! Where are you going?</em>" the woman hissed, hurriedly rising to her feet to follow in Harry's footsteps. "<em>I wasn't done with you!</em>"</p>
<p>Exiting the cafe, Harry stepped out into the solemn streets of London, pulling out an umbrella from thin air to avoid the pouring rain. She reached out a hand anyways, relishing the cold droplets hitting her skin. </p>
<p>"<em>I</em><em> said wait!</em>" the woman stormed out of the cafe doors, snapping Harry out of her reverie. </p>
<p>Not a moment later, the woman abruptly stopped at Harry's side. She squinted at the clear umbrella printed with cartoon turtles and said, rather suspiciously, "<em>You didn't have that before.</em>"</p>
<p>Suitably impressed, Harry gave her most winning smile. "<em>Perhaps</em>."</p>
<p>And proceeded to walk down the streets.</p>
<p>"<em>Hey!</em>"</p>
<p>The sound of feet violently splashing into water had Harry turn back once more.</p>
<p>"<em>You really should go back inside,</em>" she noted, watching as the woman breathed heavily, with puffs of warm air, silver hair sticking to her face from the rain. "<em>You might get sick.</em>"</p>
<p>That sounded vaguely appropriate, right? Or had this world successfully cured the common cold? It was doubtful, but Harry still held hope she would come across a world medically advanced enough to achieve it. </p>
<p>"<em>No.</em>" the woman spat out. "<em>I'm not leaving you until everything is repaid!"</em></p>
<p>Harry hummed, staring at those fierce, manic eyes, and found the sight nostalgic.</p>
<p>"<em>Well then,</em>" Harry said, presenting another umbrella out of thin air, much to the woman's visible surprise. She smiled. "<em>Consider it repaid. You’re welcome by the way.</em>”</p>
<p>The woman hastily took a step back. Her vibrant red eyes trained on the umbrella - clear like Harry’s, but plastered with yellow rubber ducks instead. "<em>How - </em>"</p>
<p>Harry’s smile widened. </p>
<p>A long pause later, the woman swallowed dryly and reached out, fingers slowly curling around the umbrella. Her thin, pale hand grasped the handle tightly, as if afraid it would flee from her hold. </p>
<p>“<em>That's not how it works,</em>” the woman finally said, in a rasping voice. “<em>You can’t wave away something like that so easily."</em></p>
<p>“<em>According to you, I actually can,</em>” Harry answered back. "<em>All the other women did. Besides, I was on the job.</em>"</p>
<p>And wasn’t that ironic? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when the entire world seemed to think she was under the services of some secret agency, but Harry was rapidly arriving to the point of not giving it any more fucks.</p>
<p>The woman remained still, clutching her gifted umbrella, her silver hair drenched and water dripping down her drawn face. </p>
<p>Harry looked out to the empty streets, the monochrome setting only tainted by a pair of brightly colored umbrellas. </p>
<p>In that sudden silence, Harry shoved a hand into the pockets of her cargo pockets. “<em>So, what are you actually here for?</em>"</p>
<p>The woman shifted. And, as if she had anticipated this question from the very start, she said haltingly, “<em>I don’t have anywhere else to go.</em>"</p>
<p>Harry glanced back at the woman. “<em>And that made you search the continent for me?</em>"</p>
<p>It was a peculiar decision. Harry only had a few possessions - the consequence of being non-permanent in every single way, she supposed. Not much to offer in terms of any sort of security. </p>
<p>“<em>Where else can I go?</em>” the woman bit back, soaked enough her clothes hung over every sharp ridge of her body. “<em>Follow the police? Join another gang? I was stuck there for </em> years. <em> I have no family, no money, no </em>future - ”</p>
<p>She stopped, breaking off her sentence before the cracks in her voice could betray her further. With a deep inhale, she finished bitterly, "<em>There’s nothing left for me now. If I’m going to live for something, I want it to have meaning.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry turned and looked at the woman fully for the very first time. </p>
<p>“<em>Do you even realize what you’re asking for?</em>” she asked, curiously. “<em>You’re alive and well. Isn’t that enough?</em>”</p>
<p>(It would have been enough for Harry, centuries ago. </p>
<p>The idea of still living, of still having the breath in her lungs matter - it was an idyllic, nostalgic memory). </p>
<p>“<em>I need more than that,</em>” the woman hissed back. Her short fingernails dug into her skin as she snarled, “<em>You can pretend all you want. I know you care. And I know you won’t leave me behind</em>. <em>Isn’t that what people like you do?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry allowed her lips to tilt upwards. Contrary to what many people seemed to think, Harry had, indeed, left dozens of people behind for less. </p>
<p>“<em>I don’t think you’re in the right place,</em>” Harry said, perhaps a little too amused over how a plea for help sounded more like a threat. “<em>What do you think I could possibly give you?</em>”</p>
<p>The woman lifted her chin. “<em>Something to do, I guess. You saved my life, so now I’m your </em> <em> responsibility.” </em></p>
<p>Now <em> that </em>didn’t sound quite right. </p>
<p>“<em>Shouldn’t that be the other way around?</em>” Harry asked.</p>
<p>The woman kept silent, defiance in her eyes. </p>
<p>A smile found its way across Harry’s face. </p>
<p>“<em>Well</em>,” she said, perhaps showing a few too many teeth. “<em>Who am I to stop the ambitious?</em>”</p>
<p>Turning around, Harry began to walk down the dreary street, sharp raindrops hitting against her umbrella. </p>
<p>A moment later, she glanced back, the same smile on her face. “<em>So? Aren’t you coming?</em>”</p>
<p>The woman blinked, frozen in place. </p>
<p>Then, in a moment that extended far too long, she stepped forward, at a stuttering pace, before hurriedly reaching Harry’s side. </p>
<p>“<em>You might regret it</em>,” Harry told her, as they walked in tandem underneath two bright umbrellas. </p>
<p>The woman snorted. “<em>I doubt it’s worse than that hellhole.” </em></p>
<p>Instead of answering, Harry gazed upon the grey, cold rain, and continued on. </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once they entered the hotel she was staying at, it suddenly occurred to Harry that it had been a <em> very </em>long time since she had last taken care of another living being. </p>
<p>(Unless, did plants count? Did the cactus she had in the previous world <em> count? </em>). </p>
<p>Placing a hand under her chin, Harry peered at the woman standing at the doorway, shivering and sopping wet. </p>
<p><em> Okay, Harry, </em> she thought consideringly. <em> You’ve done this before, no biggie. Food, clothes, the basics - how hard could it be? </em></p>
<p>“The basics,” Harry repeated aloud slowly. She glanced down at her empty hands before looking back up. “<em>So… you hungry?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>I,</em>” the woman answered back, teeth chattering. “<em>Would like a shower first. And a change of clothes, if you have any</em>.”</p>
<p><em> Okay, </em> Harry thought, <em> so maybe you’re a little rusty. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Shower is that way,</em>” she said, pointing to the door to her right. As the woman shuffled over the carpet floor, Harry tried another time, “<em>... does that mean you’re not hungry?</em>”</p>
<p>One hand on the bathroom doorknob, the woman gave a sharp glance.</p>
<p>“<em>Something to eat is fine,</em>” she said stiffly, before pointedly looking down at her still wet form. “After <em> I change into something warmer.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. That was fair. </p>
<p>A few minutes later, once the sound of running water began to fill the room, Harry rolled onto the single bed, arms splayed flat on top of the covers.</p>
<p>She stared at the lights above, the wooden ceiling fan hanging loosely nearby. </p>
<p>Closing her eyes, she breathed in heavily - an action so ingrained from centuries before, it was hard to say if she could train herself out of it. </p>
<p>Outside, the sound of heavy rain continued on.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>That night, as they shared a meal of Indian take-out, Harry tapped a fork thoughtfully to her mouth.</p>
<p>“<em>You need a name,</em>” she suddenly said, in realization.</p>
<p>The woman gave her an incredulous look. “<em>What? I already have a name.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry took another bite of her meal. “<em>And how was I supposed to know that?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>You could’ve asked,</em>” the woman said, rolling her eyes. “<em>Like any other normal person would.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>A normal person wouldn’t stalk someone across the continent,</em>” Harry said pointedly, before sitting back smugly, rather satisfied at the accuracy of her remark.</p>
<p>The woman gave a glare and silently, viciously, ate into her food. </p>
<p>After a few moments of silence, she swallowed, taking a deep dreg of water.</p>
<p>“<em>Bianca,</em>” the woman finally said, after clearing her throat. “<em>Bianca Pacino.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry smiled.</p>
<p>“<em>That’s a good name,</em>” she told the woman, because names held power. “<em>I’ll take good care of it.</em>”</p>
<p>The now-named Bianca scrunched her nose.</p>
<p>“<em>And it’s Harry,</em>” she said. “<em>Harry Potter.</em>”</p>
<p>There was an abrupt, brief chill, forcing Bianca to shiver and bring her pajamas closer together. Harry, in turn, gave it no mind. </p>
<p>They finished their meal rather quickly after and, with a brief, wary look flashing across her features, Bianca folded her pale hands together.</p>
<p>“<em>Where will you be going next?</em>” she asked, some sort of careful light placed in her eyes. </p>
<p>Harry hummed thoughtfully. “<em>That’s a good question. I’m not too sure yet.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca blinked once. “<em>They haven’t given you your next assignment?</em>”</p>
<p>
  <em> They?  </em>
</p>
<p>Harry folded her arms and wondered what it would take to convince others that it had been five decades since she last took part in any sort of organization. </p>
<p>(And, if she had any say in it, that would remain the case for as long as Harry Potter lasted). </p>
<p>She leaned back onto her seat and considered her choices, until the sudden reminder of <em> why </em>she hadn’t left this entire planet yet occurred to her. </p>
<p>“<em>I need to find out more about that fire,</em>” Harry then said aloud, twirling a fork absentmindedly between her fingers. “<em>What did that man call it again? Flames?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca’s red eyes widened. “<em>Flames?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>That’s a dangerous thing to look into,</em>” Bianca said warily. “<em>Even for government research.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry splayed her arms in a grand gesture. “<em>Consider it a personal project, then.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Personal project or not,</em>” Bianca set down her fork and narrowed her eyes. “<em>That’s just looking for trouble.” </em></p>
<p>Clasping her hands together, Harry leaned forward and told Bianca, very seriously, “<em>Don’t worry. I never look for trouble.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca threw her hands in the air. “<em>That’s not the point, you idiot! You’re trying to mess with things that could kill you!” </em></p>
<p>Harry smiled.</p>
<p>“<em>This isn’t some kind of joke,</em>” Bianca snapped, crossing her thin arms. She rubbed her arms and kept her eyes straight at the wall behind Harry. “<em>Are you trying to - is this some kind of thing you’re trying to pull, to make me go away?</em>”</p>
<p>She raised her chin deftly. “<em>If it is, you’ll have to try harder.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry tilted her head and wondered, a little idly, if it was exhausting to live so vitally in the moment. </p>
<p>“<em>I’m not trying anything,</em>” she then said. It was a hilarious suggestion because Harry hadn’t <em> tried </em> at much for a very long time. “<em>Besides - ” </em></p>
<p>Harry let out a wide grin. “<em>Let’s say you remind me of someone. I don’t do dirty to what’s mine.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca paused, a flicker of something moving behind her red eyes. There was something alight in that sight - perhaps she saw past the skin Harry wore or, even better, perhaps she saw a glimpse of <em> him.  </em></p>
<p>“<em>That’s… that’s fine then,</em>” Bianca said, recovering remarkably, and Harry allowed the moment to pass on. “<em>... does that mean you’re actually looking into it?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry shrugged, grabbing her empty take-out container and tossing it behind her. It clattered into the rubbish bin with a defeated whoosh. “<em>Why not? I have the time.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca didn’t answer for a long time. Then, “<em>I hope you and your superiors know what you’re doing.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry let out a long laugh at that.</p>
<p>“<em>Sure, sure,</em>” she said, waving away the words because, ha! Superiors! No matter which planet she landed on, it didn’t take long for its residents to learn that Harry Potter was notoriously horrendous with authority figures. “<em>So, you’re still up for coming along?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca tucked her arms closer together and glared straight into Harry’s eyes. “<em>Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.</em>”</p>
<p>Personally, Harry thought that was a terrible choice, considering her track record on taking care of living beings (she gave a moment of silence for Harold, her cactus), but at least things would be interesting for a while longer.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>“<em>The topic of Flames is protected under something called the Omerta,</em>” Bianca explained, eyes wandering back and forth. “<em>I’ve only heard about it during my time - during my time there.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>A ‘vow of silence,’</em>” Harry said thoughtfully. “<em>How quaint.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca’s face shifted. “<em>It’s very heavily guarded. Many have died for it.</em>”</p>
<p>They sat on the veranda of Harry’s hotel room, sharing a pot of tea. Well, Harry was drinking tea - Bianca had taken one look at the teapot before delicately refusing a cup.</p>
<p>Above their heads, a steady drizzle of rain continued to pour onto the clothed covers, creating a soft patter. </p>
<p>“<em>You’ve picked up on a lot,</em>” Harry noted, taking a long dreg of her tea. </p>
<p>Bianca exhaled heavily. </p>
<p>“<em>Omerta covers more than the supernatural,</em>” she continued, very pointedly not responding to Harry’s words. “<em>All criminal organizations are held under its jurisdiction.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry hummed. “<em>And who keeps them in line?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>I’m not too sure,</em>” Bianca said after a pause. “<em>The higher ranking Families might know. What I’ve heard comes from childhood stories. They mention beings hidden in the shadows, who can drag you into the dark without a sound.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Hidden beings in the shadows,</em>” Harry repeated, appearing appropriately intrigued. Would she have to deal with these creatures if she ventured further?</p>
<p>(Would they be any different than what she’s seen over the years?)</p>
<p><em> People will do anything for the sake of knowledge! - </em>was what Hermione would have said, perhaps, in their younger years. It was an inspiring thought.</p>
<p>Later, deep into the night, when Bianca’s careful breaths slowed into a calmer rhythm, Harry walked out into the veranda once again.</p>
<p>She sat in one of the offered seats, resting her head on a hand, staring deeply into the two seats across the table. </p>
<p>From one blink to the next, following the lightest of whispers, the phantoms of two people appeared in those very same chairs.</p>
<p>The older woman blinked, the edges of her dark skin pale and wispy, the wrinkles around her eyes sunken. </p>
<p>“Goodness,” the woman finally said, her unruly hair tied tightly into a bun. Her voice echoed in strange patterns. “How long has it been now, Harry?”</p>
<p>The phantom next to her snorted, his calloused hands folded together. “Give her a break, ‘mione. You know how she feels about calling us back.”</p>
<p>“Well, yes, of course I do,” Hermione shot back, raising her chin. “I’m just trying to check up on her - something <em> you </em>could do a little better with.”</p>
<p>“<em>Me?</em>” Ron leaned into his chair, an affronted finger pointed at himself. The lines along his face creased as he fought a grin. “I’m surprised Harry called you again, considering how much you nagged her last time - ”</p>
<p>“<em>Nagged her? </em> What, so caring about a friend is now considered <em> nagging?</em>”</p>
<p>“Yeah, if the friend is an immortal being who can’t <em> die - </em>”</p>
<p>“That’s a sensitive topic and you know it! - ”</p>
<p>Lips curving upwards, Harry crossed her legs, settling deeper into her seat.</p>
<p>(As much as it tried, time could not take everything from Harry). </p>
<p>A few minutes later, the trio sat quietly under the light rainfall.</p>
<p>Hermione paused, calculating eyes taking in Harry’s appearance. </p>
<p>“So,” she said, very delicately. “Is everything alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, mate,” Ron added right after. “You only call us when you’re about to lose your mind.”</p>
<p>“<em>Ronald!</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>What? </em> Am I <em> wrong?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry smiled, a shorter, quieter smile. “I’m not going to lose my mind just yet.”</p>
<p>Hermione cleared her throat once. “Well. Well, that’s good then.”</p>
<p>“That’s great, actually,” Ron sent her a thumbs up. </p>
<p>Harry sent a thumbs up back, before sighing heavily, resting her arms on the thin glass table in front of her. </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she murmured. How many years would it take before she could find the right words? “This world isn’t so bad, I think. Maybe I need some inspiration."</p>
<p>“Inspiration?” Hermione parroted back, suspicion already painted across her features. “Inspiration, like that time you blew up a moon?”</p>
<p>“It was more like an asteroid,” Harry tried to say, only for Ron to interrupt, eyes squinted across the dimly lit streets of the city. </p>
<p>“What kind of world is it this time?” he asked. The muted wisps of his appearance did nothing to hide his glee. “An alien civilization? Mythical jungles?”</p>
<p>“London, actually,” Harry said, before amending quickly. “Or <em> a </em>London.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Ron said, settling back into his seat and nodding sagely. “Equally as dangerous, I see.”</p>
<p>“Oh, please,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She turned to fully face Harry. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”</p>
<p>“It’s been on my mind,” Harry shrugged. “I’m trying to avoid the same old, same old, y’know?”</p>
<p>“The same old is never the same for you, Harry,” Hermione smiled wryly. “And I think trying out new things is a wonderful idea!”</p>
<p>Ron coughed loudly. “I don’t think you both are on the same page right now.”</p>
<p>Sending a glare that could be felt across the metaphysical world, Hermione said, “Either way, I can only imagine how the passage of time must feel for you.”</p>
<p>She gave a broad smile. “And despite my own misgivings, I want you to be <em> happy, </em>Harry.”</p>
<p>“Here, here,” Ron said, raising an invisible cup. His eyes, once a bright blue, were equally as bright as phantom wisps. “Why don’t you take your time here? If you haven’t left yet, then there’s still something worth looking into, right?”</p>
<p>Harry sat in thought, while Hermione sent an approving glance to Ron, before saying, “Maybe you’re right.”</p>
<p>“I’m always right,” Ron said, puffing out his chest. </p>
<p>Her shoulders relaxed slowly - a reminder that she couldn’t rely on them for too long - and Harry smiled. “Thanks, guys.”</p>
<p>“I did pick someone up,” she then noted, gesturing to the room behind her. “I think I’m in charge of her now.”</p>
<p>“Her? Like a person?” Hermione asked, only the slightest hint of alarm coloring her voice. “Or like a… a pet?”</p>
<p>“Rest in peace, Harold,” Ron said under his breath.</p>
<p>“A person,” Harry answered, somewhat affronted at the lack of <em> faith. </em>“I’ve been doing great so far!”</p>
<p>“Of course you have,” Hermione said soothingly. “It’s just… maybe you should think it over?”</p>
<p>Harry threw her hands up in the air. “Do what makes you happy, Harry, think it over, Harry - <em> which is it?</em>”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>She began the morning on a lighter step, clearing out the curtains to let the sunlight in.</p>
<p>“<em>Rise and shine!” </em> Harry called, completely ignoring Bianca's groans. “<em>We have a long day ahead of us!</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca peeked out of the covers, her red eyes narrowed considerably. “<em>We do?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Well, no,</em>” Harry said, after a moment of thought. “<em>Or at least, not yet.</em>”</p>
<p>She gave a half-hearted shrug before gesturing to the breakfast spread behind her. “<em>You hungry?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca stared at the presented food and collapsed back onto the bed, grumbling, “<em>Why is it always food with you?</em>”</p>
<p>Instead of answering, Harry ate a muffin, because, well, what was she supposed to say? </p>
<p>They dined quietly under the rising sun, Bianca taking slow, tiny bites into her eggs and ham. </p>
<p>“<em>Your best bet might be asking around the local bars in Italy,</em>” Bianca finally said, swallowing deftly. “<em>A lot of them are affiliated with nearby Families.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry bit into a biscuit and tried not to make a face. Ugh, Italy again? </p>
<p>Taking a long, draining chug of juice, she asked, “<em>Does that mean you’re still coming with me, potential dangers and all?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca scowled. “<em>I already told you I - </em>”</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence.</p>
<p>“<em>I already said I would,</em>” Bianca said, falling into her seat with a defeated sigh. She muttered quietly, “<em>I don’t have anywhere to go either way.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Fantastic,</em>” Harry said, dutifully moving on and summoning a brochure for a local train ride to their new destination. “<em>What do you think about this one? They even serve breakfast in bed!</em>”</p>
<p>Harry cooed at the poorly drawn advertisement. Normally, she’d apparate without a fuss, but Ron <em> had </em>said to take her time. </p>
<p>Bianca stared blankly at the brochure. “<em>I… can’t afford these prices.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry lowered the papers in her hands and gave a <em> look</em>.</p>
<p>“<em>I’ve been feeding you for the past two days,</em>” she said slowly, because it was becoming apparent that the Italians here were a little too slow on the uptake. “<em>I think a train ticket is well within my budget.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry then snorted at her own words. Budget! Ha!</p>
<p>“<em>Besides,</em>” she folded the paper gently in half and stared straight into wide, red eyes, a wide smile on her lips. “<em>I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?</em>”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Two hours into the train ride, Harry stared into the dark ceiling, more than ready to move on to the next novel part of the trip.</p>
<p>“<em>Well, what did you expect?</em>” Bianca asked unsympathetically, looking very comfortable in the narrow bed tucked into the side of the train. “<em>A theme park?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry perked up at the question. “<em>There are theme parks here?</em>”</p>
<p>The idea was tantalizing. Despite her centuries walking through separate worlds, Harry <em> still </em>hadn’t figured out the secret to flying. Roller coasters would be her next best option. </p>
<p>Bianca squinted at Harry. “<em>Are you serious? There are theme parks </em>everywhere.”</p>
<p>“<em>Everywhere?</em>” Harry repeated, challengingly. “<em>Even in the mafia?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca paused, opening her mouth, closing it shut, before finally saying, in a quieter voice. “<em>... yes.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry clasped her hands together delightedly. She knew <em> exactly </em>where she would be going next. </p>
<p>Groaning, Bianca pulled the covers over her face and decidedly did not say another word.</p>
<p>An agonizing amount of time later, Harry dragged herself off the train, hands outstretched towards the sun.</p>
<p>“<em>At last!</em>” she exclaimed, stretching her centuries-old muscles. It was important to stay fit in her old age. “<em>Sunlight!</em>”</p>
<p>Wearing a pair of sunglasses to hide her dark circles, Bianca snorted, pulling out a suitcase Harry had gifted her. She glanced down at Harry and muttered under her breath, “<em>I don’t understand how the government could’ve hired someone like you.</em>”</p>
<p>Considering the unfortunate series of events that led to her actual “job,” Harry found it a fair question - the application process to command Death had been far from standard. </p>
<p>Instead of regaling the old tale, Harry shrugged instead. She faced Bianca, the resident of this charming (and hateful) country. “<em>So, where to next?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca tightened the grip on her suitcase. Her head wandered around the train station and, moments later, her shoulders hunched forward. </p>
<p>“<em>Naples, I suppose,</em>” she then said, a sort of finality in her voice. “<em>It’s far enough from Vongola territory.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry blinked at those words. Vongola, Vongola - where had she heard that name before?</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>They arrived in Naples in the early evening. Following her usual routine, Harry picked a hotel by closing her eyes and pointing in a certain direction.</p>
<p>“<em>It’s standard procedure,</em>” Harry told Bianca, when the woman made an incredulous face. “<em>I’m a person of simple routines.</em>”</p>
<p>The remaining hours before dusk were spent in a local restaurant, under Bianca’s recommendation. </p>
<p>“<em>Spaghetti e vongole,</em>” the waiter announced, placing down a fresh plate of creamy spaghetti, decorated with clams and parsley. “<em>And pasta e fagioli.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry non discreetly wiped away any hint of drool.</p>
<p>She hummed delightedly, digging into the dishes with gusto. At a much slower pace, Bianca placed some spaghetti onto a separate plate before chewing carefully. </p>
<p>“<em>You can’t visit Naples without trying the seafood,</em>” Bianca later explained, as they exited the restaurant. She weaved through the streets with a strange sense of familiarity, ducking past major roads and cutting into the local alleys. </p>
<p>“<em>I love seafood,</em>” Harry told her reassuringly, the statement a little too late considering the amount of clams she had just eaten. </p>
<p>After another fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived at a rather well-kept bar, a low-ceiling building with bright lights and quiet, easy music. </p>
<p>“<em>This is one of the more popular hot spots,</em>” Bianca said, lingering at the end of the street, eyes trained on the bar. “<em>You might be able to pick up some information, but people won’t like that you’re asking about Flames.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry shoved her hands into her khaki pants, undeterred. She had long since learned that there was some truth even to fairytales. </p>
<p>She began walking under the street lights, before glancing back. </p>
<p>“<em>You can go back to the hotel,</em>” Harry said, somewhat aware that Bianca’s knowledge around the city had to mean <em> something </em> significant. “<em>You don’t have to stay.</em>”</p>
<p>It would also be incredibly embarrassing if she failed to keep Bianca past the night - that would be a shorter record than even Harold, and then Harry would have to deal with a <em> precedent.  </em></p>
<p>Bianca raised her chin in what was becoming a familiar fashion. “<em>I should be fine. We’re in the inner ring of the city anyways.</em>”</p>
<p>For Harry, those words meant literally nothing. But she accepted them either way and strolled into the bar, Bianca a mere step behind her.</p>
<p>The dull chatter within the bar silenced as soon as she walked through the door. It was unclear what could have attracted the attention, but Harry chalked it up to criminal paranoia and grabbed a nearby table. </p>
<p>Bianca took the opposite seat and hissed, “<em>I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out like that.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry looked down at her white button-down, decorated with mini Italian flags, before rearing her head back, affronted. </p>
<p>“<em>This is a modern classic,</em>” Harry protested. When would the world understand her genius aesthetic? </p>
<p>“<em>It’s horrendous and slightly offensive,</em>” Bianca shot back, dragging a hand through her cropped, white hair. “<em>I guess it’s my fault. I should have known better.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>To be fair, you did tell me to change,</em>” Harry said soothingly, plucking the specials list. “<em>I just ignored you. It’s my specialty.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Your specialty,</em>” Bianca repeated flatly, fingers digging into her scalp. Her red eyes flashed across the bar. </p>
<p>Considering the late hour, there were only a handful of patrons in the bar, with a sole bartender wiping the counter in the center of the room. </p>
<p>Instead of responding, Harry made a noise of interest at the appetizer menu - the deep fried zucchini seemed to call to her. </p>
<p>“<em>You want anything?</em>” Harry asked, already rising from her seat.</p>
<p>Bianca scrunched her nose. “<em>You’re eating </em> again? <em> And I thought you were gathering information.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry took the non-answer as a no. “<em>Why can’t I do both?</em>”</p>
<p>She walked off to the counter, placing a single rune under the wooden table, in case someone wanted to try something behind her back. Heavy stares followed her across the room.</p>
<p>“<em>Two frozen margaritas, please,</em>” Harry said pleasantly to the bartender. “<em>And a zucchine alla scapece.</em>”</p>
<p>The bartender nodded slowly, eyeing her up and down. She hopped onto a stool, an easy smile on her lips. </p>
<p>Minutes later, two clear glasses were placed by her hands and the bartender, a middle-aged man in a freshly pressed uniform, stared at her expectantly.</p>
<p>Utterly unaware of what those expectations may be, Harry leaned forward and asked, charmingly, “<em>What can you tell me about Flames?</em>”</p>
<p>Indiscernible emotions flashed across the man’s face. Luckily, Harry had something a little more useful to pick those thoughts apart.</p>
<p>Pieces of memories, of colored flames, of whispered rumors passed along his mind. </p>
<p>“<em>Colored flames?</em>” Harry murmured, playing with the rim of her drink. “<em>How fascinating.</em>”</p>
<p>When it was clear this was the most she could find, she waved a hand over the bartender’s face. In an instant, he blinked, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at the basket of fried zucchini in his hands.</p>
<p><em> If only I was better at Legilimency, </em> Harry thought mournfully, accepting the food gracefully. She grabbed the drinks and walked back, where both the table and Bianca were still intact.</p>
<p>“<em>For you,</em>” Harry declared, placing the margarita in front of Bianca. </p>
<p>Bianca rubbed her forehead, as if a headache was on its way. “<em>I’d say thank you, if you weren’t on the job.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>I’m always on the job,</em>” Harry joked, in poor taste, because she wasn't <em> wrong </em>. </p>
<p>She popped in a piece of sliced, deep fried zucchini, the salty batter crunching nicely between her teeth. </p>
<p>At that very moment, a hand, well-kept and attached to a luxurious suit, landed gently on their table. </p>
<p>Harry slowly looked up, still chewing on her food. </p>
<p>“<em>What a pleasant surprise,</em>” a man, with strands of grey hair, grinned wickedly. His dark eyes were trained solely on Bianca. “<em>To think you were still alive, little lamb.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca remained still in her seat, her pupils dilating, breath cut short. </p>
<p>“<em>I did hear things went south with Gospella,</em>” the man continued, inspecting his manicured fingernails with great interest. Behind him, three burly men waited silently. “<em>And you even had the courtesy to return to me!</em>”</p>
<p>He shot forward, a hand roughly grabbing Bianca’s chin. Leaning closer, he inspected her thinning cheeks and slyly, he said, “<em>I knew your father raised you right.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca’s hands clenched at those words. </p>
<p>“<em>My father,</em>” she began, in a trembling whisper, “<em>Wouldn’t even bother to spit on your grave.</em>”</p>
<p>The man let out a bark of laughter. </p>
<p>“<em>Yes, I think I still have some use for you yet,</em>” he said, fingers still wrapped tight around Bianca’s face. “<em>Surely you didn’t think your family was free of its debt?</em>”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Harry took another piece of her fried zucchini, already halfway through the basket. It was rude to eat when Bianca was so preoccupied, but the food was near irresistible. </p>
<p>She sipped her margarita - lime and frozen - as the unknown man motioned to his men, his fingernails digging into Bianca’s face. </p>
<p>“<em>Take the lamb away,</em>” he said, hand still tight around Bianca’s face as she jerked away. “<em>Maybe she’ll survive the slaughter this time as well.</em>”</p>
<p>For the first time during this altercation, while the other men shifted to move, Bianca’s eyes darted to Harry, a visceral terror alight in her eyes.</p>
<p>And Harry, inspecting her half-empty glass, smiled with all of her teeth. </p>
<p>She picked up another piece of zucchini and said, “<em>You have five seconds.</em>”</p>
<p>The man slowly turned to her, the golden watch around his wrist glinting under the fluorescent light. </p>
<p>He snorted. “<em>What did you say?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry finished off the rest of her zucchini. </p>
<p>“<em>You have five seconds,</em>” she then said, wiping her hands on her pants. “<em>Before I do something about that hand.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry's eyes followed the fingers still digging into Bianca’s skin, a dark red blooming along her face. </p>
<p>The man hacked out another laugh.</p>
<p>“<em>You?</em>” he asked, mockingly, before tightening his grip even further. His nails pierced skin and Bianca cried out in pain. “<em>What are </em> you <em> going to do? This - “ </em></p>
<p>He brought Bianca forward, dragging her out of her chair and to the ground. His other hand dug into her hair and pulled upward, bringing her face into the light, right in front of Harry. </p>
<p>“<em>This,</em>” he said again, delightedly, “<em>is </em>mine.”</p>
<p>“<em>That can’t be right,</em>” Harry said, taking another sip of her drink. She raised her glass to Bianca’s trembling form. “<em>Your contract ended. That means she’s my - </em>”</p>
<p>Harry paused. What was the proper term for someone who followed you across the continent?</p>
<p>“<em>My assistant,</em>” she finished. Once this was all over, a serious conversation was needed for the right answer. What did <em> Bianca </em>think she was?</p>
<p>Then, because Harry tired of all this posturing, hurled the drink in her hand straight into the man’s face. </p>
<p>The glass shattered instantly, cutting through skin, and the man howled, the alcohol seeping into the open cuts.</p>
<p>Already moving, Harry upended her table and, with the man’s grip loosening, summoned Bianca, the woman’s body pulled to Harry’s side. A heartbeat later, a gunshot fired into the table and the rune underneath it flashed dimly.</p>
<p>Bianca blinked rapidly, breathing harshly, tears in her eyes. </p>
<p>“<em>Stay here,</em>” Harry said absentmindedly. Transfiguring a nearby napkin into a blanket, she wrapped it around Bianca’s shoulders. Another gunshot slammed into the table and it rattled fiercely. </p>
<p>Harry stood up, dusting off her khaki pants. She walked around the table, ignoring the shots fired her way, and made her way to the same man, who was dabbing a cloth to his cut face.</p>
<p>The man snarled, pulling out a handgun and shutting off the safety lock, “<em>You - </em>“</p>
<p>Rolling her eyes, Harry ducked under his raised arm and twisted her body, the back of her heel striking his face with a satisfying crunch. </p>
<p>More gunshots rapidly followed her way and, grabbing the downed man’s gun, Harry turned, firing off at the nearest henchmen.</p>
<p>The bullet found its way into the electrical control board behind him instead, and immediately the lights above began to flicker dangerously. In a matter of moments, the wires above burst apart into flames.</p>
<p>Harry clicked her tongue.</p>
<p>“<em>This is what I get for following the rules of this trigger-happy country,</em>” she said, disgusted, before tossing the gun behind her. </p>
<p>A gurgled cough caught her attention. Looking down, Harry met eyes with the man on the floor.</p>
<p>“<em>I’m not interested in what you have to say,</em>” she told him rather frankly. For a brief moment, shorter than the passing of a heartbeat, she let <em> him </em> loom over her shoulders, let ancient magic cover her eyes. His face paled to sheer white. “<em>But you should’ve known better than to mess with what’s mine.</em>”</p>
<p>And without another word, she stomped into the man’s throat, effectively ending his time in this world. </p>
<p>By this point, the patrons of the bar had long since fled the premises. Harry, with a great sigh, got rid of the other henchmen. The fire above was now spreading across the floor and pieces of the roof had begun to fall down.</p>
<p>Dusting off her hands in the empty bar, Harry walked back to her upended table and set it back to its proper place. Her fingers pinched the rune etched into wood, forcibly wiping it away.</p>
<p>On the floor, Bianca shuddered, manic eyes darting everywhere. </p>
<p>Dusting away shards of broken glass, Harry sat down. In response to the rising smoke and flames, the bar’s sprinkler system finally sparked to life. </p>
<p>Bianca shivered, the blanket around her shoulders gradually becoming more soaked.</p>
<p>“<em>I,</em>” she said hoarsely, “<em>I don’t, I don’t, I - </em> “</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. “<em>Take your time.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca stared numbly at the scene around her, taking in the sputtering flames, the cascade of water falling from above, the dead bodies strewn across the floor, the crushed windpipe of the man who had touched her before - </p>
<p>In the distance, the sound of sirens rang faintly through the air. </p>
<p>Bianca swallowed, before turning back to Harry.</p>
<p>“<em>Is this</em>,” she began, licking her dry lips. “<em>Do you always handle your jobs like this?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry surveyed the room around her, a little puzzled by what Bianca meant by “this.”</p>
<p>“<em>I do what I think is appropriate,</em>” Harry finally said, hopefully answering the question. She leaned onto a raised knee and let her lips curve upwards. Her eyes landed on the drying blood along Bianca’s chin. “<em>And I do believe this was rather appropriate.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca remained silent, eyes as large as the full moon outside. </p>
<p>“<em>Now, let’s get out of here,</em>” Harry said decidedly, rising to a stand. She offered a hand. “<em>Before the police blame us for this mess.</em>”</p>
<p>There was a long pause.</p>
<p>“<em>They wouldn’t be wrong,</em>” Bianca muttered, but accepted the hand and stumbled to her feet. </p>
<p>Harry walked to the door they had used before - despite the shattered windows that created more openings, she felt this was a more civilized method. </p>
<p>She opened the door, turning the knob, and nearly walked into a whole other individual, forcing Bianca to step over her heels. </p>
<p>And on the other side of the door, wearing another three-piece suit, hand outreached toward the door, stood the last person Harry would ever want to see on this planet.</p>
<p>“Ugh<em>,</em>” she said, unable to stop herself. </p>
<p>Face contorting in response, Reborn lowered his arm and said, in the worst imitation of a pleasant voice, “I see you haven't died just yet<em>.</em>”</p>
<p>Physically incapable of returning the poor attempt at civility, Harry said, “Seven billion people in this world and somehow, you’re everywhere I go.”</p>
<p>Reborn had the audacity to appear slightly offended. “Many would consider that a blessing.”</p>
<p>Harry wrinkled her nose in response. </p>
<p>Reborn peered over her head and stared flatly at the still burning remains of the bar. “Let me guess. This was you?”</p>
<p>He then gave an accusing look. “I needed this place tonight.”</p>
<p>“Technically, until you have proof, anything could’ve happened<em>,</em>” Harry said, tugging Bianca forward. It was clear she had overstayed her welcome in Italy.</p>
<p>“Well<em>,</em>” Reborn said, glancing at Bianca before facing her again. It seemed he had many choice words to say. </p>
<p>Instead, he tipped off his fedora, perhaps in an attempt to seem suave, but only served to make Harry regret her decision to not smite him, weeks before. “Try not to burn Naples to the ground tonight<em>.</em>”</p>
<p>Yes, Harry reflected, it was poor planning on her part to give mercy to those undeserving. It wasn’t too late. She could still smite him now, right where he stood - </p>
<p>The shuffle of feet grabbed her attention. A water-soaked Bianca, white hair sticking to her still gaunt face, shifted in Harry’s peripheral vision.</p>
<p>Harry let out a disappointed sigh. The smiting would have to wait another day.</p>
<p>She directed Bianca down the street and made another face. What would it take to be free of the curse of Italy?</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>They walked back to the hotel, because Harry wasn’t sure how the residents of this world responded to apparition. </p>
<p>On the way, they passed by a dumpling food cart and, eagerly, Harry bought several meat buns.</p>
<p>“<em>You want one?</em>” Harry raised a steaming bun in question, already biting into another, a wave of heat filling her mouth. </p>
<p>A myriad of thoughts ran across Bianca’s face before, resignedly, she accepted the meat bun. </p>
<p>Harry chewed through the savory pork, the juice of the meat blending with the fresh dough of the bun.</p>
<p>After a few minutes of silent walking, Bianca quietly asked, “<em>Who was that man?</em>”</p>
<p>Harry finished off her bun and vanished its wrapper. “<em>You don’t remember? He was with me in Rome.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca took another bite of her food. “<em>I don’t remember much of my time there.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>But you remembered me?</em>” Harry asked bemusedly. They entered the hotel’s lobby through a set of sliding doors. “<em>Enough to search all of Europe?</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca frowned. “<em>I… don’t know. You seemed different. Almost as if…”  </em></p>
<p>Already aware of the direction Bianca’s thoughts might be taking her (and the likelihood of her being very, very wrong), Harry entered the hotel room and conjured a fresh pair of pajamas.</p>
<p>Accepting the clothes absentmindedly, Bianca did not say anything for several more minutes. </p>
<p>Finally, after another stretched moment of silence, she turned to Harry, something unsure settling onto her face. “<em>You - you’re not actually part of the English government, are you.</em>”</p>
<p>Harry smiled. “<em>That’s correct.</em>”</p>
<p>It was nice to see that some people were quicker on the uptake. </p>
<p>“<em>Then,</em>” Bianca began again, haltingly. “<em>Then who are you?</em>”</p>
<p>The better question to ask was, <em> what </em>was Harry?</p>
<p>“<em>I already told you,</em>” Harry said instead, patiently. “<em>I’m Harry Potter.</em>”</p>
<p>This time, the utter chill that flashed across the air was too great to ignore. </p>
<p>Bianca’s eyes widened and in the wake of the slowed moment, Harry waited expectantly. </p>
<p>Then, in the next second, the moment passed, altogether missed and forgotten. </p>
<p>Having experienced these eternities countless times, Harry allowed time to restart, leaving Bianca to blink rapidly. </p>
<p>“<em>I,</em>” she said, “<em>Okay. That’s fine.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>You can leave, if you want,</em>” Harry said, because unlike many others, she didn’t ignore the desires of what was hers. She gestured to the open door. “<em>I certainly won’t hold it against you.</em>”</p>
<p>Bianca glanced at the pajamas in her hands, made of cotton and decorated with silver birds. </p>
<p>“<em>I don’t know who you are,</em>” Bianca admitted, fingers clenching the clothes tightly. “<em>But you never hesitated to help me.</em>”</p>
<p>Like always, she stared straight into Harry’s eyes. “<em>That's better than what other places can give me.</em>”</p>
<p><em> Humans, </em>Harry thought, perhaps fondly. </p>
<p>She let those words linger in the air - in the end, Harry Potter had nothing to say in the face of unwarranted courage.</p>
<p>(It was what she had once stood for, after all).</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>fun fact: there was originally a year between this chapter and previous one, which tells a lot about my (nonexistent) update schedule. </p>
<p>Bianca is 100% an OC, although she does have a great relevance to this fic and is, technically, related to a canon character. you're welcome to take a shot at who that might be :)</p>
<p>(also, some of my readers on ffnet mistook her for Bianchi, Gokudera's older sister, which is not correct, guys, that would be an incredibly different timeline LOL)</p>
<p>the next chapter should be coming up whenever I finish editing it! please look forward to more, and thanks for stopping by! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>let's all say thank you to drippingmoonwax who is an incredible beta reader and makes this fic better than it ever could be :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>There seem to be variants of these Flames,</em>” Harry said, sharing the tiny bits of information she had picked up the night before. She sat on the double bed and crossed her legs. “<em>And they’re very jealously guarded. I’m assuming it’s a highly coveted skill or talent.</em>”</p><p>“<em>That sounds about right,</em>” Bianca said, carefully folding the few clothes Harry had gifted her. Grudgingly, she added, “<em>I guess you can get things done when it counts.</em>”</p><p>“<em>When it counts?</em>” Harry repeated. She splayed a hand on her watermelon-printed green t-shirt. “<em>I’ll have you know, I am the </em> definition <em> of efficiency.</em>"</p><p>Bianca rolled her eyes. "<em>Yeah, sure.</em>"</p><p>There was a moment of silence that lasted long enough. With lax hands resting on her suitcase, Bianca stared into an unknown space, her eyes nearly glazing over.</p><p>"<em>So,</em>” Harry said. “<em>Where to next? </em> </p><p>When the quiet remained, she stood up and snapped her fingers in front of Bianca’s face.</p><p>Bianca startled, violently returning to the present. She blinked rapidly as the gloss faded away. “<em>I - what?</em>”</p><p>“<em>This isn’t enough information,</em>” Harry said patiently. “<em>So where to next?</em>”</p><p>Bianca scowled. “<em>You’re asking </em> me? <em> Aren’t you the one in charge here?</em>”</p><p>Harry gave a wide smile in response.</p><p>“<em>Ugh,</em>” Bianca groaned, closing her suitcase. She frowned in thought. “<em>Asking random people will only get us so far.</em>”</p><p>“<em>You mentioned the higher ranked Families,</em>” Harry pointed out. “<em>Why don’t we ask them?</em>”</p><p>Bianca reared her head back. </p><p>“<em>What?</em>” she hissed, throwing her hand into the air. “<em>We can’t just waltz into a Family’s headquarters! That’s just asking for death!</em>”</p><p>Harry swiveled her head back to Bianca. That… was a brilliant idea!</p><p>“<em>That’s,</em>” Bianca brought her hand down to her forehead, somehow successfully interpreting Harry’s expression. “<em>That’s not how it works. If we show up at — I don’t know — say, Vongola’s headquarters, we’ll get shot down before we can even open our mouths!</em>”</p><p>Out of the corner of her mouth, Bianca muttered, “<em>How are you still </em> alive<em>?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Vongola?</em>” Harry returned to the bed and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, decidedly ignoring Bianca’s side remark. “<em>I’ve definitely heard that name before. Are they important?</em>”</p><p>Bianca snorted. “<em>You can’t be serious.</em>”</p><p>She caught sight of Harry’s very serious face. “<em> You… you’re serious.</em>”</p><p>Stepping away from her suitcase, Bianca settled into the bed next to Harry. </p><p>“<em>The Vongola Family is one of the most powerful, if not the most, Family in the world,</em>” she said slowly. “<em>They have holdings across the globe, and several other Families serve under them.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Like branch families?</em>” Harry leaned back into the headboard of the bed.</p><p>Bianca hummed, the sound incredibly distant, her eyes caught on the windows outside. “<em>Sometimes. Other times, they’re allied for beneficial reasons.</em>”</p><p>Quietly, she said, “<em>My parents served under a separate Family. The Capasso Family was always careful dealing with Vongola.</em>”</p><p>Harry studied Bianca’s still form. “<em>So that man from last night?</em>”</p><p>Bianca turned away, leaving her silver hair to cover her face. Her thin fingers curled around the fabric of her skirt. “<em>The Boss. He liked to gamble things away. And it didn’t have to be money.</em>”</p><p>Harry wondered at how humanity always made the same mistakes - no matter the world, power didn’t seem to learn from its previous transgressions. </p><p>“<em>I’m sorry,</em>” Harry finally said into the silence. She met Bianca’s red eyes, when the woman turned back around. “<em>I should have given him to you.</em>”</p><p>Bianca’s eyebrows rose. “<em>To me?</em>”</p><p>“<em>I can’t bring him back</em>” Harry said, considering the wasted moment. The consequence of ignorance, she supposed. It was a shame you could only kill a person once. “<em>But I’ll keep that in mind for next time.</em>”</p><p>“<em>I… don’t understand,</em>” Bianca said. </p><p>But Harry was already moving on. She hopped to her feet. “<em>To Vongola’s headquarters, then?</em>”</p><p>“<em>No!</em>” Bianca spluttered, scrambling to stand as well. “<em>Didn’t you hear what I just said?</em>”</p><p>“<em>I did,</em>” Harry said plainly. “<em>I’m choosing to ignore it.</em>”</p><p>With a scowl, Bianca hissed, “<em>We don’t even know where it’s located, you stupid, foolish - </em> “</p><p>“<em>Oh?</em>” Harry hummed, speaking over Bianca’s frankly very explicit words. “<em>Didn’t you say you could find </em>anything?”</p><p>Bianca opened her mouth, only to close it shut with a <em> snap.  </em></p><p>“<em>If you need something, I’ll give it,</em>” Harry said, watching Bianca’s jaw clench at the goad. She slyly added on, “<em>Or… is it possible you actually </em> can’t <em> find anything?</em>”</p><p>Like the final nail to the coffin, Bianca tossed her suitcase (gently!) to the floor.</p><p>“<em>Fine,</em>” Bianca snapped. “<em>But if we die, it’s on your hands.</em>”</p><p>Harry grinned at the turn of events.</p><p>“<em>Don’t worry,</em>” she told Bianca. “<em>I don’t have plans on that happening any time soon.</em>”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>Two days later, in the outskirts of Rome, Harry lingered on the rooftops of the local shops.</p><p>The problem with her interests in this world, Harry thought morosely, was that they all intertwined with Italy. </p><p>She crouched on the ledge of the tallest chimney, her cloak wrapped over her shoulders. </p><p>“No, no, no, no,” she said aloud, observing the roads and every car that passed by. “No, no, no - aha!”</p><p>She narrowed in on a single black car that had a silver emblem carved into its hood. Marking down the time and direction, Harry moved onto the next section of the perimeter.</p><p>That night, Harry brought her findings to Bianca, who had transformed their hotel room into something straight out of a crime show. </p><p>The floor was covered in an enlarged map, colored pins cutting through the paper, several markers strewn across the bed. </p><p>“<em>The third day schedule,</em>” Harry announced, passing the crumpled notebook over to Bianca. </p><p>Accepting it with one hand, Bianca bit into the end of her pen, only to glance back at the notebook. “<em>Why is it wet?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Technically,</em>” Harry said. “<em>It’s not wet anymore.</em>” </p><p>For a moment, Bianca studied the notebook, before delicately putting it onto the floor and gingerly opening it to the first page. </p><p>Another hour later, after a hearty meal of take-out, Bianca circled a section of her map in deep red. </p><p>“<em>It’s somewhere here,</em>” she declared, before her lips twisted downward. “<em>I think.</em>”</p><p>“<em>That’s better than what I could have done,</em>” Harry said, peering over Bianca’s shoulders to have a better look. “<em>My methods are more… improvised.</em>”</p><p>And by improvised, she meant wandering the woods until something found <em> her </em> . It was certainly an exciting method, but the lack of hard deadlines meant Harry could spend <em> years </em>living in her choice of wilderness.</p><p>Bianca huffed, though a pleased smile found its way on her face. “<em>Well, we have around five kilometers to search through.</em>”</p><p>Harry considered the numbers. “<em>Five kilometers could work.</em>”</p><p>With that said, she stood up and began walking to the front door.</p><p>“<em>Wait,</em>” Bianca said, getting to her feet so fast, the map on the floor nearly tore in two. “<em>You’re going </em> now?<em>” </em></p><p>Harry glanced back, eyebrows rising. “<em>Why not?</em>”</p><p>“<em>I’m not,</em>” Bianca looked back down at her pale hands, covered in stray pen marks and colored highlighter ink. “<em>I’m not ready.</em>”</p><p>Harry blinked. </p><p>“<em>It’s better if you stay here,</em>” she told Bianca, shifting her weight to her other foot. “<em>You’ve had enough excitement for the week.</em>”</p><p>If she lost Bianca in under a week, she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Ron and Hermione. </p><p>Bianca exhaled, as if all the air escaped her in a single movement. </p><p>“<em>It doesn’t feel right leaving you to go alone,</em>” she said, gnawing at her bottom lip. “<em>Even if I can’t offer much help.</em>”</p><p>Harry tilted her head. “<em>But you did your job already.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Wasn’t this all you?</em>” she asked, gesturing to the map beside their feet, the cross-referenced journals, the calculations scribbled along the side. </p><p>Harry smiled. “<em>You did great. I believe it’s my turn now.</em>”</p><p>Bianca’s shoulders hunched forward. She returned the smile weakly. “<em>Alright. I doubt I could stop you either way.</em>”</p><p>Harry laughed, because that was entirely correct<em> .  </em></p><p>With a wave of her hand, Harry exited the hotel and, without another thought, apparated back to the suburban outskirts of Rome.</p><p>She hummed as she wrapped her old cloak around her body. A moment later, her pizza-themed polo shirt melted into a black suit. </p><p><em> Better safe than sorry, </em>she thought, remembering that one time she was caught red-handed in an alien government building because her bright clothes reflected the strange fluorescent lighting.</p><p>Then, with another sharp crack, she disappeared into the night, deep into the forests and wearing her family heirloom on her back.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>-o-o-o-o-o-</strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>It took another hour of aimless wandering before Harry finally found the aforementioned Vongola Headquarters. </p><p>She stood at the edge of the woods, the spotlights on top of the enormous mansion in front of her barely hitting her cloak. </p><p>Her eyes followed the several stories, up to the very rooftop. Rolling her shoulders, she walked across the well-trimmed lawn, through the raised bushes. In a matter of minutes, she had hopped over the towering fence surrounding the building.</p><p>She spent more time examining the doors and windows - though she didn’t see any cameras, it was safe to assume that another sort of security was placed on every entrance and exit. Luckily, Harry had another method of transport.</p><p>Peering into what seemed to be the kitchens, Harry placed several spells on her feet and, in the timing of banging pots and pans, apparated straight into the room.</p><p>She remained still in the corner, pausing for a moment before dancing around the hurriedly moving maids. </p><p>It was easy to wander the hallways, since it seemed there weren’t any security measures put <em> inside </em>the headquarters. </p><p>What was also easy, Harry quickly found, was getting lost within the winding halls.</p><p><em> Maybe, </em> Harry thought, opening a door to the seventh bedroom on this floor, <em> they don’t need a security system inside. Maybe intruders just remain lost here, forever.  </em></p><p>It was a fascinating thought, but Harry wasn’t interested in spending eternity in the fancier version of a prison cell. Unable to test her patience any longer, she grabbed the first maid she could find and searched for any images of the library.</p><p>Minutes later, the maid blissfully unaware of her most recent events, Harry apparated to the headquarters’ library and nearly landed on top of a bookcase.</p><p>Hobbling to her feet, Harry decided the fall was a gamble worth taking. </p><p>The Vongola library was worthy of its supposed fame and power. Two stories tall and all of its bookcases filled to the brim, Harry nearly considered dropping the investigation altogether - she couldn’t remember the last time she had ever needed to <em> study.  </em></p><p>But Hermione would be horrified if she heard Harry had left a library untouched, and so, rolling up her sleeves, Harry got to work.</p><p>There was no catalog to a clearly private library. That was an obvious fact, but Harry grumbled over it anyways. She trudged over to a table in a hidden corner and, muttering under her breath, summoned every book on “Flames.”</p><p>A short pause later, Harry peered at the pile in front of her.</p><p>“<em>The Dangers of Smoke and Fire,</em>” she read aloud, opening the book before ultimately realizing that it was, indeed, a book on fire safety. “<em>Firefighters A to Z? The Burn Book?</em>”</p><p>Harry wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to be here forever at this rate.”</p><p>Multiple fruitless leads later, she flipped through a tattered, worn book, its binding leather and tied with string. </p><p><em> The Seven Flames of the Sky, </em>it read in faded lettering. The language was older than she expected, but she found it legible enough. </p><p><em> Dying Will Flames are a natural phenomenon that may never be fully explained, </em> the opening paragraph stated, <em> and I fear the day that will no longer be the case. They seem to come from one’s own “life-force,” and powered entirely by willpower alone.  </em></p><p>
  <em> It’s, as I’ve often noted, unexplainable. But the power of Dying Will Flames is undeniable. I’ve come across seven main “types,” though the existence of more is entirely plausible. I write to you, Giotto, in hopes that you might uncover more, for the sake of your own.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They call these seven types after the natural elements: Storm, Rain, Mist, Cloud, Lightning, Sun, and, of course, Sky. Each has their own properties and capabilities, though I caution you from discovering them foolheartedly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> These properties involve different functions -  </em>
</p><p>Harry flipped through several more pages, uncovering little more information besides what seemed to be the “basics.” It was a rudimentary book, she acknowledged, and written when these powers were a novelty in themselves. </p><p>But it was a wealth of information regardless. Harry smiled widely at its very existence - it might not be magic, but at this point, she wasn’t particularly picky. </p><p>There was a sharp click. It was becoming a familiar sound and, letting out a silent exhale, Harry glanced back to see the barrel of a handgun.</p><p>“<em>I might not be able to see you,</em>” Reborn said in a low voice, his other hand casually in his pockets. “ <em> But I know you’re there.</em>”</p><p>Harry looked down at her covered body, then at the book still in her hands.</p><p><em> Did I jinx it? </em> she asked herself, vanishing the cloak entirely and tucking the book into her suit. <em> Did I jinx myself and now I’m stuck in a lifetime of misery? </em></p><p>Was she cursed? Would she find Reborn at every corner, like a phantom waiting in the dark?</p><p>The gun in Reborn’s hands didn’t waver, but there was a visible pause in his movements. </p><p>“<em>You,</em>” he said, glancing back behind him, though he kept Harry in his line of sight. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I could ask you the same question,” Harry said, barely able to keep the accusation from her voice. It was becoming increasingly apparent she’d have to examine her surroundings more thoroughly in the future. “This would have gone very differently if I knew you’d be here.”</p><p>Namely, she wouldn’t have approached this bloody mansion at all. </p><p>Reborn lowered his gun ever so slightly, though it remained trained on Harry’s person, a look of distaste briefly flashing past his face. </p><p>“Your country is biting off more than it can chew,” Reborn told her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Vongola isn't a wise choice to mess with.”</p><p>Harry ignored the misplaced statement and studied Reborn’s (hateful) relaxed posture. Vongola, Vongola, there it was again. Why would Reborn be -  </p><p>“This is your employer’s place,” Harry said aloud, a faint memory of their time together in Greece finally resurfacing. She dragged a hand down her face. Was old age finally getting to her? “No wonder the name sounded so familiar.”</p><p>“Most people would remember my affiliates,” Reborn said slowly, as if he couldn’t believe there was someone in this world who didn’t see him as a priority.</p><p>His face quickly smoothed out and, rather patronizingly, he added, “Well. I suppose that can’t be expected from everyone.”</p><p>Would it be murder, Harry thought idly, if she threw Reborn out the window? At that point, one could say he voluntarily jumped, couldn’t they?</p><p>“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with me,” Reborn said, though the slight tilt of his lips relayed how ‘unfortunate’ he really thought it was. “I’m sure Vongola’s Boss would be thrilled to meet you.”</p><p>Harry briefly considered the idea until suddenly, it occurred to her that she didn’t have to do fuck all for Reborn.</p><p>“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, unable to even <em> sound </em>apologetic. “I’m really busy, you see.”</p><p>Reborn raised his gun again. His lips flattened into a straight line. “I wasn’t asking.”</p><p>Harry smiled, the corners around her mouth tightening as she wondered if this was it, if this was the perfect time to end Reborn, once and for all - </p><p>As if the strings of fate had heard her thoughts, a whistle-like alarm rang through the mansion. </p><p>Harry blinked and immediately, the pressure in the air lifted. Meanwhile, Reborn clicked his tongue sharply.</p><p>“That wasn’t me,” she said, under the loud siren and flashing red lights. Then, just in case, she slipped in, “I think.”</p><p>“No, obviously it wasn’t,” Reborn said, rolling his eyes. He lowered his gun even further. </p><p>“Poor timing, that,” Harry said, a grin finding its way on her face. “You should probably take care of it.”</p><p>Reborn looked at her, appearing as if he would love nothing more than to drag her body down for interrogation.</p><p>At that exact moment, the door to the library flung open, revealing a man in a cheap suit, a gun raised in their direction.</p><p>“<em>Hands in the air!</em>” he barked. “<em>Vongola’s reign is over - ” </em></p><p>Without pause, Reborn fired his own gun, a golden bullet piercing through the man’s head. The man crumpled to the floor with a deflated slump.</p><p>“<em>This is the second time this month,</em>” Reborn muttered, stalking to the library’s exit. “<em>What is Timoteo doing?</em>”</p><p>Then, as if remembering the exact position he was in moments before, Reborn turned back around - only to find Harry right beside him, crouching over the dead man’s body.</p><p>“... what are you doing?”</p><p>Harry hummed, studying the hole in the man’s forehead. It was a clean shot, and the bullet was nowhere in sight.</p><p><em> Unfortunate, </em>she thought, because having one of Reborn’s stray bullets would be an interesting study. </p><p>(It was tragic to remember that Harry’s interest in Flames had begun with Reborn. If she had found him any less hateful, she might have asked him directly for help.)</p><p>“Maybe I’ll stick around,” she murmured, before looking back up at Reborn. “How often do you miss your shots?”</p><p>Reborn’s grip on his gun tightened minutely. “I don’t miss.”</p><p>Harry waited. After a prolonged silence, she finally asked, “Ever?”</p><p>“Ever.” </p><p>Well, that was just disappointing. </p><p>“I wouldn’t linger if I were you,” Reborn kicked over the dead man’s gun, the weapon skidding across the tiled floor. “But if you are, you might as well make yourself useful.”</p><p>Harry wrinkled her nose. Guns, again?</p><p>It was tempting to leave the place altogether. There was no appeal in using a gun, and the chances of her running into Flames were rather low. </p><p>But, then again - what if leaving was exactly what Reborn wanted?</p><p>Without another thought, she picked up the gun. </p><p>“Lead the way,” Harry said, prepared to do a number of things if it went against what Reborn desired. </p><p>The muscles around Reborn’s mouth tightened, ever so slightly, which left Harry to the conclusion that she’d made the right choice. </p><p>Without another word, he walked into the hallway, the sounds of fighting and gun shots rapidly rising by the minute. Harry, through the sheer fact of not knowing where to go, trailed behind him.</p><p>They turned a corner into another extravagantly decorated corridor, with velvet carpet and golden chandeliers. </p><p>The aesthetic sight was slightly ruined by the bleeding corpse on the floor.</p><p>Reborn sighed deeply. He stepped gingerly over the body, as if careful to not get any blood on his suit, and continued walking. </p><p>The burns on the dead man’s face were interesting. Her centuries of experience led her to see all types of wounds, but there was something… different about how the burns nearly melted through his skin. </p><p>She looked up. The hallway was completely empty.</p><p>It could be worse, Harry thought, moving down the corridor. Reborn ditching her was a better alternative than him <em> staying. </em></p><p>She found him again at the very end of the hallway, standing at the top of a winding staircase. There were hordes of men in black suits firing at each other - a terrible safety hazard, in Harry’s opinion. It was a quick way to die under friendly fire.</p><p>At the bottom of the stairs, a body collapsed onto the ground, a cascade of brown hair falling over his - wait, no, <em> her - </em>face. </p><p>Hordes of men <em> and </em>women, Harry quickly corrected. She wouldn’t let old age prevent her from being progressive.</p><p>It seemed they were fighting in the main hall. The open space below was rather massive and left a lot of room for the spiraling free-for-all. Above their heads, at the very center of the hall, an enormous, crystal chandelier hung delicately from the ceiling.</p><p>By her side, Reborn clicked his tongue, one arm raised as he rapidly fired off an endless number of bullets. Golden streaks flew from his gun, striking the heads of the people below.</p><p>“Huh,” she said, watching as another bullet cleanly went through another victim. “You really don’t miss.”</p><p>“Somehow,” Reborn slowly said, ducking under a barrage of gunfire sent his way. Harry followed him a beat later. “That didn’t sound like a compliment.”</p><p>She gave him a terribly solemn look.</p><p>“The day I give you a compliment is the day I die,” Harry told him, and it was a shame no one else but Death would get the joke.</p><p>“Tragic,” Reborn said, before glancing at her through the corner of his eye. </p><p>The idea of following Reborn’s expectations was near revolting. She had zero knowledge of the situation, so it was a little ridiculous to think she was capable of providing anything helpful -</p><p><em> Wait a second, </em>Harry thought. </p><p>Being unhelpful was the exact <em> opposite </em> of a problem. </p><p>Then, with that in mind, she covered her eyes with a hand and pulled out her stolen gun with the other. From the gaps between her fingers, she could see Reborn’s head whipping back at her.</p><p>“Tally-ho,” Harry said gleefully, and fired the gun somewhere randomly below her. She then shot a few more bullets for good measure. </p><p>There was a faint <em> ping </em> of noise, a sound that was nearly hidden under the general mayhem of the fight beneath the stairs. She hadn’t been aiming at anything specific, really, but it was strange that the bullets were ricocheting above their heads, around the <em> ceiling </em>. </p><p>With a sharp crack, one stray bullet smashed into the thin string holding the gigantic chandelier. There was a loud, slow creak, so ominous that several people paused from the fight.</p><p>Like a warning from the gods above, the creak grew even louder, like metal grinding against itself. An even greater number stopped to stare up at the ceiling. </p><p>The chandelier tipped dangerously to one side, the angle of its position becoming more lopsided by the second.</p><p>There was an abrupt silence, the sounds of battle dying away as all eyes turned collectively upward. </p><p>In the eerie quiet, something snapped, sending the chandelier crashing onto the floor. Hundreds of glass crystals shattered across the polished wooden floor, leaving countless people scrambling to avoid getting hit. </p><p>The silence returned. A few poor sods who couldn’t completely escape the mess tried in vain to brush off the glass from their suits. </p><p>For the first time that night, Harry let out a slow grin. </p><p>Warm hands wrapped around her shoulders. </p><p>“<em>Have you lost your mind?</em>” Reborn hissed, shaking her slightly back and forth. “<em>What were you thinking?” </em></p><p>“<em>I actually wasn’t,</em>” Harry answered, eyes still trained on the floor below. A spark of green flashed across the floor, dancing around everybody present and freezing their muscles.</p><p>Her smile widened. </p><p>“<em>Of course you weren’t,</em>” Reborn said, eyes darting to the side as if he was contemplating throwing Harry down the stairs. </p><p>Since she shared the same sentiment (because throwing Reborn down the stairs was an inspired idea), Harry indulged him for a moment longer, already trying to decide the best way around it.</p><p>She could stun his body and toss him over the railing, or levitate him up to the ceiling and release her magic, or backhand him hard enough to break his cheekbones - </p><p>“<em>Reborn,</em>” a man with loose, blonde hair hanging over his shoulders approached from the stairs. His eyes dug straight into Harry. “<em>Nono is asking for you. Along with your… companion.” </em></p><p>Reborn tucked his gun away into his inside pocket, already at a distance away from Harry. He tugged at his bright, garish, <em> ugly </em> tie. “<em>Very well. Lead the way, Coyote.</em>”</p><p>Coyote gave a grave nod and walked down the stairs, with Reborn not far behind, And Harry, mind still on the green sparks that had appeared on the ground floor, followed. </p><p>She stepped over dozens of collapsed bodies, her heels digging into the velvet carpet. Like always, the cries of the dead filled the air and tragically, Harry was the only one present who could hear them. </p><p>Her feet stopped by one paralyzed body. Crouching down, she pressed a finger against the man’s side, magic sparking around his skin.</p><p><em> Curious, </em>she thought, digging her finger even deeper. The man, unable to move in the slightest, let out an undignified squeak. </p><p>It was obvious this was a result of ‘Flames.’ Though the color was different from Reborn’s ugly fire, she could still feel a hint of the same bright, magnetic warmth.</p><p>Was it one of those ‘elements’? Which one was the green one? <em> After centuries, why was Harry still struggling to remember what she had read less than twenty minutes ago? </em></p><p>The lingering fire pricked at her skin. It wasn’t enough, but Harry could almost sense a familiar sensation from it. </p><p>With a sigh, she rested her cheek on her free hand. She should’ve jumped over the railing and joined the sea of Flames when she had the chance. </p><p>There was a soft crunch as a pair of feet stepped over glass.</p><p>“<em>Miss,</em>” Harry glanced back to see the same man from before, Coyote, with a severe expression on his face. “<em>It’s this way.</em>”</p><p>He gestured to another hallway, past the main entrance and through a set of wide doors. </p><p>Harry hummed. </p><p>“<em>Did you do this?</em>” she asked, her finger still pressed against the paralyzed man’s side. </p><p>Coyote continued to watch patiently. </p><p>That could mean a plethora of different things. Harry took the non-answer as a sign that Coyote, at least, knew who <em> did.  </em></p><p>She rose to her feet and dusted off the glass shards from her suit. </p><p>“<em>Alright then,</em>” she said. “<em>After you.</em>”</p><p> Coyote instead took a step back and placed himself firmly behind her. </p><p>“<em>If you would leave your weapon with me,</em>” he said, stretching out a hand. </p><p>There was a moment of confusion, before Harry remembered which country she was currently in. She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out her forgotten gun. “<em>You mean this?</em>”</p><p>Her lips curving upward, Harry indulged the man and handed the weapon over. </p><p>After a few minutes, with Coyote right behind her, she entered a new corridor that was just as fancy as the others. The only difference was a large, gold-adorned painting that loomed over everything else.</p><p>There was a man with blond hair and golden, amber eyes in the portrait - for a passing moment, his face struck a bell through her aging memories. </p><p>Centuries ago, that might have been a cause for alarm. These days, it didn’t mean much, really, because she had given up on bothering to remember the details after her 100th birthday.</p><p>She eventually stopped in front of an even more extravagant set of oak doors. Silently, Coyote stepped forward and gave a single, hard knock.</p><p>The doors opened without a sound, slowly revealing a decorated office and a litter of people inside. </p><p>They were all standing along the walls, bringing more attention to the old, wooden desk in the very middle. There were several windows on either side of the room and, to the side, a <em> very </em>expensive looking vase rested inside a glass case. </p><p>Another man with dark hair sat behind the desk, his hands wrapped around a scepter and heavy rings adorning his fingers.</p><p>Briefly, Harry considered the merits of walking into what was clearly a bothersome situation. </p><p>But no, she didn’t live this long by staying still. If she had, maybe Harry Potter would have been laid to rest centuries ago.</p><p>And with that in mind, she entered the room, through the doors and past Reborn who was, unfortunately, the closest to the entrance.  </p><p>“<em>At last. We finally get to meet our mysterious guest of honor,</em>” the man behind the desk said, leaning onto his scepter. He gave a faint smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes. “<em>As far as acquaintances go, you’ve brought a troublesome one, Reborn.</em>”</p><p>Harry blinked, and slowly looked back.</p><p>Reborn’s acquaintance? <em> Her? </em></p><p>“<em>My apologies, Nono,</em>” Reborn said, arms crossed tight. He leaned against the wall as the shadows from his fedora covered his face. </p><p>And... was that it?</p><p>No retort, no smug, patronizing looks, no ignorant remarks in the face of a higher power?</p><p><em> Dull, </em>Harry thought, turning away from Reborn. It was laughably dull. What was so special about a single man? </p><p>(She had seen so many of <em> those, </em>they all seemed the same now.)</p><p>“<em>An intruder who made a mess of our centuries-old library, destroyed a priceless chandelier that can’t be replaced, and hurt several of our men in the process,</em>” the same man, who was likely Vongola’s Boss, listed off, his eyes not once straying from Harry’s face. “<em>I wonder what I’m supposed to make of this situation.</em>”</p><p>Harry made some sort of disinterested noise. Was it really <em> her </em>fault that nothing in this mansion was secure? </p><p>“<em>That sounds like a tough problem,</em>” she tried to say sympathetically. </p><p>The man paused, before saying, “<em>Quite.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Unfortunately, we have a policy when it comes to government interference,</em>” he continued, not appearing distraught in the slightest. The door behind her closed with a quiet <em> click</em>. “<em>That is to say, we don’t allow it. Even if you </em> are <em> Reborn’s acquaintance, I’m afraid we can’t let this one go.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Oh no,</em>” Harry said, as she looked around the room. Several of the men present shifted slightly, and a few weapons were drawn. Reborn, on the other hand, did not move at all. </p><p>(She was still trying to understand <em> where, </em>exactly, she had gone wrong to leave the impression that she was Reborn’s acquaintance. </p><p>Was it because she didn’t backhand him over the railing? <em> Was that it?</em>)</p><p>“<em>We’ll make sure to at least send a hand back to your country,</em>” Vongola said, leaning back into his chair and completely ignoring Harry’s witty remarks. It was rude, but fair, because she wasn’t being the most attentive guest either. “<em>We aren’t savages, you see.</em>”</p><p>The man tapped a finger on his scepter. “<em>We’ll even add a letter along with it. I’m sure a name will help them identify your fingers a little faster.</em>”</p><p>There was a pause. </p><p>The air seemed to grow still as her head, slowly, like the turn of a clock’s hand, swiveled back to the man. </p><p>“<em>A name?</em>” Harry repeated, the skin on her cheeks stretching wide. The abyss creaked open behind her teeth. “<em>When you haven’t even given yours?</em>”</p><p><em> The audacity of mortals, </em>she thought, the anticipation swelling inside her like a balloon.</p><p>A familiar hunger clawed at her sides, waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the moment when she would finally <em> make this night worth its time - </em></p><p>Something cold pressed into her lower back. </p><p>“<em>You seem to be unaware of your current position,</em>” Vongola’s Boss said, as Harry returned to the present. She didn’t need to look to know what was aimed at her spine.</p><p>Harry smiled. “<em>I’ve been told it’s what I do best.</em>”</p><p>At the end of her sentence, green fire sparked along the floor and danced around her feet. </p><p>Her smile widened further. </p><p>At last! Something to turn the night around!</p><p>“<em>Careful, Ganauche,</em>” Vongola said, eyeing her with careful, dark eyes. “<em>We at least want some answers before we cut off a hand.</em>”</p><p>She slapped a hand to her mouth, to avoid interrupting the ominous mood, and let out a muffled, quiet, “<em>Ha!</em>”</p><p>The fire rose above her legs, cracking and tearing the ends of her cheap pants.</p><p>And Harry, who was <em> finally </em>getting what she wanted, dropped to her knees and stuck her hand straight into the strange fire. </p><p>A gunshot ran through the air. She ignored the dull pain that grazed her side and distantly, she wondered if she was cursed to recognize such a familiar sound.</p><p><em> Interesting, </em>she thought. The Flames lashed at her hand, rising higher and higher, but her magic worked a little too fast for them to burn. The fire wasn’t entirely hot, but then again, Harry probably had a slightly different set of standards.</p><p><em> Verrrry interesting, </em>Harry thought, shifting to the side when someone tried to body slam her to the ground.</p><p>The Flames felt - familiar, almost. There was nothing she knew better than magic itself, but this wasn’t quite it. </p><p>(Her magic clamored to the surface of her skin, the abyss returning, just as it always had when - )</p><p><em> Ew! </em> Harry thought, snatching back her hand. She shook her head, nose scrunching up, as a burst of bullets shot past her ear. <em> You don’t even know where that’s been! </em></p><p>Just because she <em> could </em> eat something off the floor didn’t mean she <em> liked </em>to. Even Harry Potter had standards!</p><p>Either way, from the way her stomach was protesting, it was high time Harry left and got her second dinner.</p><p>(More importantly, Bianca was probably starving at this point. Didn’t humans need at least four meals a day to survive? Or was it five?)</p><p>She stood up, quickly leaning back to avoid a stream of red fire.</p><p>At this point, the entire office had long since fallen into chaos. Different colored flames danced around the floor and, with another bullet, the case holding the expensive looking vase shattered into pieces. </p><p>Vongola’s Boss had long since risen to his feet - and would you look at <em> that, </em>there was fire on his head! - and there were at least four people scrambling to tackle her to the ground. </p><p><em> Yes, </em> Harry thought, hands on her hips, taking in the scene before her. <em> My work here is done. </em></p><p>The most appropriate way to leave was through apparition. Unfortunately for all parties involved, Harry hadn’t made it this far by living <em> appropriately.  </em></p><p>Several people were shouting and a new set of alarms blared through the room. With a little hum, Harry sidestepped a pair of arms and slipped her hands into another man’s suit.</p><p>She looked down to find - surprise, surprise - another gun.</p><p>For a split second, under the gleam of metal, Harry was tempted to indulge her bad habits. Italy had a way of convincing anyone that guns would do the trick. </p><p>She quickly shook her head and returned to her senses. Instead, magic trickled from her fingertips and carved a glowing rune into the gun. </p><p>With a beam, Harry kicked out the man’s legs (so hard a bone might have snapped), swung her arm back, and hurled the gun straight through the nearest window. </p><p>The moment the gun made contact with the glass, the rune burst open and magic, eager to please, detonated through the window - </p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>A minute later, under the settling dust and the ring of silence, she stepped over the debris and into the lawn outside. The grass tickled her bare feet (her shoes were now completely destroyed) and the trees around her swayed with the wind. </p><p>“Ah, fresh air,” she said, spreading her arms wide open. Her lungs expanded to take in the cool, night breeze and for a moment, she could have convinced herself that <em> that </em>was what mattered.</p><p>Bright lights danced across the lawn, likely in search of <em> her</em>. Shouts filled the distance and behind her, several more shots were fired her way. </p><p>Harry ducked under another flying bullet. And though she wasn’t too sure what compelled her, she took one, final look back at her finished work.</p><p>The Vongola mansion was in ruins. Or, at least, a part of it was in utter disrepair. </p><p>Remnants of different Flames sputtered across the stained floor, with Vongola himself dusting off the soot from his clothes.</p><p>His men were in various states of discomfort - one was unlucky enough to have the bottom half of his body buried under the rubble. </p><p>And, from the farthest side of the destroyed room, Reborn remained still, not having moved a single centimeter from his previous spot. </p><p>The only difference was the gun held tightly in his clenched hand. </p><p>Time stuttered to a halt as Reborn raised his head, meeting Harry’s eyes straight on. There was something different in his gaze, something that was, perhaps, far more hostile.</p><p>It was, in Harry’s opinion, a much better look than before. </p><p>And with that in mind, she let out a blinding grin and turned on her heel, away from the ashes of soulfire and into the forests before her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some more parts of the 'supernatural' side have been revealed! i'd love to see your guesses as to where we might be going here :D</p><p>i'm always thrilled to see readers (old and new) stop by this fic so i'd like to thank everyone who's come by to read it! authors usually take note of their readers so i always love seeing familiar usernames pop by uwu</p><p>stay safe and look forward to more!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>